Where You Long To Be
by Zerbinetta
Summary: We all know the story. Sues get sucked into the world of Movie!PotO. But what happens when two anti!Sues, a slightly devious tomboy with a Gerik fettish and a Kay phan who takes vocal lessons, appear in the movie world? And what if they have a plan ready?
1. Just the average phans

**_A story written purely because I didn´t want to write Mary Sues and had to see how they work - here, you´ll find both humor AND Sue, so do consider this a Parody!Sue - two girls that are complete anti-Sues are sucked into the Sued world of the PotO movie!_**

**_ Certainly my most Sued piece of writing, but simply because I wanted this to be Parody!Sue. Really, the two main characters are anti-Sue. If you knew us, you´d agree :-P .  
_**

**_I should note that this story has an unusual sense of humor, a mix of sarcasm and parody, so if you don't find it amusing, it's not your fault. Please remember that this is simply humor - not to be taken very seriously. However, it will be following the storyline of the movie for quite some time, I guess chapter 21 or so is the first after-movie chapter, so you can just skip to that one, if you like. Also, feel free to suggest changes, point out missing stuff - (Heather - thank you for pointing that out, I changed it to make it more believable. I´ll try to do something with the romance part, though I'm not sure how much I can change), but please, no flames. If you don't like it, why bother reviewing? _**

Anyway, enough is enough, I'm done, so enjoy.

X X X

**Chapter 1 – Just the average phans**

X X X X

"I'm bored. Let's watch Phantom."

Amanda had uttered the phrase for about the zillionth time in the last hour, according to Regina's math. It was a stormy afternoon, they were in Regina's room – whose parents were away, working, even though it was a Sunday – and had watched the aforementioned movie two hours ago. Frankly, Regina wondered if there really was something else they could do, since the other DVDs seemed strangely boring – or, at least, she had seen them more often than Phantom.

Regina, who had just returned from vacation in Italy, returned with a DVD of the movie Phantom of the Opera, which both of the girls had been hunting all around the town, but always failed to catch it. The best they got was the soundtrack, and, as they both agreed, that would simply not do.

The pair had both recently turned sixteen, Regina being about two weeks older than Amanda. Both were friends from school for the past six years, both were home for that part of the holiday. In short, one was visiting the other and it was getting immensely boring.

Amanda was tall for her age, tanned and had semi-long brown hair. The hair was an intriguing part of her visage – no one, including her, knew what the original color was, other than the assumptions that it must have been a shade of brown, lighter than it was now. Bespectacled because she read far too many Stephen King books and stayed up late into the night (or, at least Regina assumed that had to be part of the reason), brown-eyed and sharp-tongued, she was funny in a slightly morbid way at times, sarcasm was her middle name, and generally, was a great person to hang around with, no matter what your mood was.

Regina was her opposite when it came to the physical – she was also tall, taller, perhaps, but the similarities ended there. Her hair was long and blonde, and she was often annoyed how her grandma constantly ranted about what a Goldilocks she was. It was one of the reasons she had dyed her hair months previously, as Amanda advised would be fun, but it remained blonde, not the rather drastic black some of her friends were suggesting out of fun. Then she would really look like a vampire, she told them. And it was true. She was so pale that she almost blended with walls at times, blue, green and hints of gray mixed in her eyes, so no one could ever identify their true color, and it was common knowledge that she was the local bookworm extraordinaire, sharp-witted but shy at times and rather proud.

When it came to their "Phantom characteristics", both had certain obsessions normal for a POTO phan – Amanda was quite the phan of Gerard Butler and always had interesting remarks of Christine's possible blindness or simple mental illnesses. Regina loved the story in every way and was convinced that the Kay backstory was the only real backstory. In short, both were normal obsessed phans.

The obsession came to the level when Regina announced she would learn to sing – partly because of Phantom, partly because she was really bored just doing schoolwork and surfing the internet. Amanda's idea of moral support was reading the textbook of musical theory and laughing her head off at what her "poor, poor" friend would have to get into her head.

Tonight, however, they simply wanted to watch the movie, for the x-th time. Not that it mattered. You could always find something new in the movie. So Regina lazily got off the couch, followed by a rather excited Amanda, whom every reasonable psychiatrist would now identify as insane, judging by the maniacal gleam in her eyes. It was time to bring out the DVD.

The plus of having an Italian copy was the Italian version – you had two versions of the singing, thus you could compare, mock, learn by heart and so on and so on. The sad thing was that the pair had perhaps exhausted all options already, and it was just the second day Regina had the DVD.

Regina slouched and Amanda hopped into the living room, where the former managed to start the TV and the DVD player by pressing a few buttons. In a few seconds, the main menu of the DVD appeared, the pair selected the desired language and began watching the film, making remarks about the flying nun accompanying the – as Amanda noted – perverted old Raoul on a wheelchair and began listing methods of fop-extermination.

After a while, though, it wasn't so funny anymore. Regina closed her eyes when the overture nearly blasted the TV in half and happily ignored the neighbors in the flat above them, who were, to be polite, rather unhappy with the noise.

By the time Think of Me ended, the singing managed to soothe her enough to almost fall asleep. Her eyes were closed, she didn't even register Amanda's frantic excitement. After a few minutes, however, even that seemed to fade. Amanda calmed down somewhat, half-closed her eyes and once she had found a comfortable enough position on the couch, she fell asleep with thoughts of a PONR scene involving her rather than Emmy Rossum.

Regina stirred when Music of the Night began to play and absent-mindedly opened her eyes just a little bit. The soothing voice of the Phantom sounded through the entire room and she ignored the crackling of the TV as a figment of her already over-active imagination. She also fell asleep, with a scene not unlike Amanda's in her head, although it involved the MOTN scene.

The TV continued to crackle somewhat, but the sleeping girls didn't really register it. Then, suddenly, it flashed with light for a moment, completely unnaturally, but – fortunately for the pair, for they would have been a sleeping toast if it would have – didn't explode. It simply switched off… with it came the lights of the room, the flat­… the nearest ten blocks… and by the time the power returned, the couch and the throne-like chair were no longer occupied, though they looked like after World War III.

Both sleeping phans were gone… and not because they wanted to be.

X X X

Regina woke up in the morning, expecting a sharp pain in the back, because her damned good memory reminded her of falling asleep on the wooden chair her dad favored so… and she was used to her bed. That would hurt. She groaned quietly, but discovered herself in a lying position, in bed. Inwardly, she thanked her parents – they were always so nice, so they probably moved her to her bed. Thank God.

However, the covers and the pillow weren't as soft as she remembered. She tried to roll over, but nearly fell off the thin bed. Sitting up, she frowned and sharply opened her eyes. she nearly fainted at the sight. Many small beds, old-fashioned furniture, a large room­… this wasn't her bedroom. This was some kind of… museum? No, people didn't sleep in museums. Besides, the other beds were occupied.

Her nightgown was also different. It was a soft, flowing material with little flowers – it was completely white and… damn! Low-cut! She got up from the bed and walked to the nearest mirror – it was king-sized. It was as if cold water had penetrated her lungs. The person staring out of the mirror was many things, but it definitely wasn't her.

The height, age, and pale skin remained the same, but that was all she was able to recognize as herself. Her prized straight golden hair was now deep dark brown, chocolate-like, falling in gorgeous curls for which one required a whole team of hairdressers to maintain. The blue of her eyes was gone, replaced by light coffee brown. She frowned. She didn't like brown eyes much. But her entire face had a different bone-structure.

Being smart, she put two and two together, but she still didn't get where she was or how she got there. Regina rushed to the window and looked out. There was a large, 19th century-ish town out there, with people dressed to fit with the set. Alright, so it wasn't a prank played on her by Amanda. But still…

How the hell did she end up looking like Movie Christine in such a place?

A gasp from the left caused her to jump and turn sharply. Someone looking very much like Movie Meg was looking at her own hair, then noticed that someone was watching. Raising her fearful gaze, the blonde ballerina frowned and uncertainly asked: "Gin?"

"Mandy?" Regina responded with a question of her own.

The blonde in the bed sighed in some relief, if such a thing was possible in their situation. Amanda went through a similar chain of reactions as Regina seconds before, but then regained her calm. "Why the hell do we look different? And where the hell are we?" You could trust her to remain calm.

One of the other sleeping ballerinas stirred at the loud sounds. Regina luckily noticed this. It was almost morning, about five o'clock, but she didn't know how much time they had. If she was right (and she usually was) they had just come across one big mess and landed right in it.

"Bathroom. Now."

"Now? In this situation, you need to…?" Amanda demanded angrily.

"No, you idiot. We need to talk." Regina hissed, "If you wanna wake them up and explain that you aren't Meg Giry or whoever the hell you're supposed to be, they'll send you straight to the madhouse. Now c'mon."

Sulking, Amanda hopped out of the bed and followed the other girl out of the ballet dormitories, to the only place where they probably wouldn't be disturbed by anything. She didn't really know what this was about, but the frantic gleam in Regina's eyes she had only when she forgot about something as trivial as an essay that affected fifty percent of your grade made her think that the situation was serious. She groaned out loud. This was one hell of a morning.

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**Read? Review! And tell me your thoughts if I should continue! This is fun!**


	2. Name change

**Author's notes:** Thanks so much for the reviews! My first attempt at humor, but it seems to be quite good. Here is the next chapter.

**lady kathrin** – thanks! Here you go!

**shirahime18** – not to worry, they are far from the ingénue and the clueless best friend. Read on!

**mrs. malfoy** – thanks! Next chapter coming right up!

X X X

**Chapter 2 – Name change: meet Miss Diva and Miss Ballerina **

X X X X

After about two minutes of searching for the desired room, Regina slammed the door shut, as quietly as possible. Her skill with slamming doors quietly was great, having often woken up at, say 3 am and snuck to the computer, carefully avoiding her sleeping parents. Regina always said it was a thrilling adventure. Amanda always said Regina was an insomniac. Regina didn't deny that.

Now, however, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that both girls were in bodies that weren't their own, in a foreign town and time, and in a story most people classified as fiction. At least, that was Regina's hunch. How they got there and how the hell they were going to get back, she had no idea.

"What's this about?" Amanda demanded, "Gin, I didn't know your sarcasm ran so deep you had to dye my hair blonde when I was asleep." she said angrily, pointing at the long, straight blonde strands, the opposite of her brown wavy mess.

"In case you haven't noticed, we're in ballet dormitories, you look like Meg and I look like Christine on a good hair day." Regina hissed back. She was actually beginning to like the hair, though she was a Leroux purist in this and claimed Christine was a blonde… mostly because she was a blonde. Well, used to be.

"Alright, then how did we get here? This is stupid. This kind of thing always has to happen to us, and…" the angry glint in her eyes turned into an euphoric quickly. "Wait… if we look like the movie characters and are in the movie, theoretically…" she gave Regina a pointed look, "You know who has to be several dozen meters beneath us."

"Look, this really isn't the time to joke…"

But the other girl had begun humming the overture… rather loudly. Regina hated when she did that. Amanda, all things considered, was a cool person, but her singing needed work. She never denied it, considering herself to be music-deaf. That meant she couldn't tell an off-key song from a correctly performed one.

Regina seemed to realize just now who Amanda was talking about, but shook the thought off. Normally, she would stop and began to stare, then probably start raiding the Opera Populaire – or, more probably, think for a second and dash to the dressing room mirror and start singing loudly. But if there was anything Regina hated (and probably even feared) the most, it was not being in control. This was one of those situations.

"We don't know how we got here or how to get back!"

Amanda didn't seem to care the least, but began humming another song and doing rather weird things – her parody of some of the dance moves – and even weirder things. Regina always thought that the parody of Don Juan with a paper mask and a pareo was rather weird, but entertaining nonetheless. At least, when she wasn't stressed.

"I'll have to sing opera if we stay here!" she whined, "Don't you understand!"

"Gin, please." Amanda put on her business-like face. "You sing just fine. And with lessons from you-know-who, what can go wrong?" it seemed as if she thought the case was closed.

But Regina hadn't used her secret weapon yet. Putting on a grave expression, she added: "And you will have to dance ballet."

Amanda, currently singing Think of Me, as if to demonstrate that Regina could do it, froze. Her grin vanished. It almost went to Regina's face. At first, Amanda was checking if it was a joke… it wasn't. She knew. Meg Giry equaled ballet rat. Ballet rat equaled dancing. This was hell. She wanted to retort that Regina would have to do it too, but then remembered the teeny fact that her friend's mother had been a prima ballerina and Regina had to put up with watching trainings and performances for practically her whole life. That equaled that she had to at least know how to pretend she knew what she was doing. She, on the other hand…

She swallowed. "Alright, genius, what's the plan?"

"Plan?" Regina repeated, "I have no plan! I don't know anything!"

"You have to get us outta here! I don't want to hop around in a tutu! And my "mother" is the ballet instructor – who do you think is going to have more training than the rest?" Amanda growled, "Phantom or not, I won't do this! I don't even know how to stand correctly!"

Mechanically, though she had never done it before in her whole life (hating ballet to the core since she was eight), Regina showed her the basic stances, the correct position of the arms, hands, legs, everything. Amanda stared at her. It was like looking at a ballerina – a real one. She frowned deeply.

"Now wait just one moment…"

Relaxing her body instinctively, she repeated the poses with ease, doing even better. It was an impulse, really, as if she had done it zillion times before. Again, she frowned. Of course! It hit her. The body wasn't her own, it was Meg´s, and Meg was a dancer. She tried something different – recalling things from Meg´s life. Early childhood. Growing up in the Opera. Dancing. Meeting Christine. Training. She blinked several times sharply.

"I remember…" Regina looked at her quizzically. "I remember Meg´s life. It's like… like having two memories at once – I remember my life, but these other memories seem natural. Try it."

It was Regina's turn to frown, but she tried. And it came to her easily. She remembered entire parts in operas. Notes. Music lessons. A beautiful ethereal voice calling to her. Memories of a dark-haired man playing the violin. She had never seen him before, but instinctively recognized him as her father. She also had memories she knew weren't hers. That meant… that the real Christine wasn't in _her_ body… the real Christine no longer existed. There were only memories left of her. Or… did Regina no longer exist? She shuddered. Scary thoughts. And way too philosophical for an early morning.

"Alright, well, I honestly don't know what to do." Regina bluntly said. "I guess we'll have to stay like this, until…" until they would get back? It didn't seem probable, even to her.

"Then we have a chance to set it right!" Amanda suddenly beamed. "I know you well enough to say there's no chance you'd pick the Fop over Erik and since you're officially Christine now, you can do that!"

Regina laughed weakly. "Don't forget that Don Juan premieres months after all of this… and once we make one major change, everything will change. It's a jigsaw."

"Right now, we focus on Hannibal." Amanda said dismissively. "We'll plan things out after the rehearsals – they're today, I thi…know it." she smirked slightly, "Ready to sing Think of Me and kick Carlotta's ass, Miss Prima Donna?"

Now, even Regina had to laugh. "Alright, but remember – Regina and Amanda are names we can't use anymore. It's Christine and Meg now."

Amanda grimaced. "I don't like the name. I never knew if it stands for Margaret or Megan, or just Meg. Now I know."

"And?"

A laugh. "I'll tell you later, if I feel like it." At least it was still Amanda on the inside.

Regina sighed. "Fine. I guess we should go to bed for the moment. Today is the big day, but we'll have to listen to Carlotta for a while."

"And Piangi." Amanda… Meg stuck her tongue out. "At least he's nicer."

"Yeah, never had a Prima Donna tantrum before."

"Are you certain?"

Laughing, the girls returned to bed, this time making no effort whatsoever to keep things down. The ballet rats, they knew, were mostly drunk from yesterday, so there was absolutely no chance that they would wake up sooner than at half past six, the recommended time to wake up in the Opera house.

When Regina woke up, she instantly had to remind herself that her name was now Christine. It would take time getting used to, but she decided that she could handle it. After all, her parents sometimes teasingly called her that. Her parents… she would never see them again… she sighed. She hated her conscience. It was way too strict for its own good. If she could punch it every once in a while, she would feel better. The role of an ingénue was laughable to her. She, a major martial arts fan, was to be the damsel in distress. Oh, well. Might as well enjoy the finer parts of the role – like the fact she knew that soon, a certain "angel" would emerge from her mirror. She felt better at once.

Amanda wasn't a morning person, but Meg was. The fact that Meg had a conscience angered her – Amanda had no conscience, as far as she was aware. Nevertheless, she was eagerly awaiting her first day, especially since she knew there would be fun things happening soon. While a bit jealous at first that she wasn't Christine, she got over it. Revenge on the Fop for ruining a perfect romance would be enough. Besides, you never knew how many ghosts haunted the place. It seemed like one big adventure to her now, especially since she knew that while no one else knew, she and Regina would be the ones in control. They knew what would happen­… and what they would make happen.

The show was ready to begin.


	3. Instinct

**Author's notes:** We get to the good stuff in the next chapter. Now is the time to go through Hannibal… fast.

**Nota Lone** – too true, too true. This should be fun…

**lady kathrin** – thanks! Here's the next chapter.

**Enrinye** – (maniacal grin)

X X X

**Chapter 3 – Instinct **

X X X X

Ballet practice wasn't exactly exciting. Meg wanted to snap something at her "mother", but unfortunately, the Meg part of her controlled the reflex. Amanda wouldn't have hesitated. Amanda thought that while the whole thing of her and Gin being in the Opera was cool, hopping around in a revealing slave girl outfit wasn't much better than hopping around in a tutu. She knew the moves mechanically and it was obvious that she was a more prominent dancer. It was also obvious why that was – Madame Giry never trained anyone harder than her own daughter.

Christine spent most of the time wondering what she would do when things meant to happen would happen, praying that her voice would be at least as good as the dancing and frowning at the new managers. The costume she wore wasn't much to her liking – the top was alright, but the "skirt" was not. She would have never, _ever_ worn something like that, if it had been up to her. It was one of the reasons why she had never in her wildest dreams even considered the career of a ballerina. Even the "real" Christine part of her wasn't completely and utterly happy about it.

The two girls had made plans before going to sleep, for the rehearsal and the first production of the year. Knowing what to expect from the last rehearsal where they would have to suffer Carlotta's presence, they were fully prepared. Meg, knowing that not that much was required of her, assumed the role of "the ingénue coach". She knew that they would have to work on the deer-in-highlights expressions, because Christine always burst out laughing when she tried that for more than ten seconds.

Christine kept hiding behind Meg from the moment the Vicomte de Chagny came into view. The later he would notice her, the better, they reasoned, so until Meg signaled he was gone, the brunette kept her head bowed, trying her best to be invisible. Inwardly, she was repeating the Think Of Me lyrics and melody. It troubled her that there were several versions of the lyrics, but she decided to go for the movie style, since everything around her was movie style.

They took extra care when avoiding the (predictably) falling backdrop and Meg kept glancing up even before that happened, hoping to get a glimpse of their "target". It appeared, much to her disappointment, that he had earned the title of Opera Ghost by right. Not even his shadow came into view. It was the first time Meg got to practice her surprised shrieking – and, narrowly avoiding laughter when Carlotta hit the floor. Well, her dress was so large that she had probably not hurt herself at all, but she and Christine were still suppressing giggles and saving the imitating and mocking her voice for later.

It took extreme willpower not to laugh at the managers´ faces when Madame Giry brought forth a piece of paper with a neatly written message and an envelope with a skull-like red seal. And then, the moment Christine had been bracing herself against for the whole morning had come. Her back was turned to the debate, Meg was trying to calm her one last time, in a very Amanda-ish way.

"Christine Daaé could sing it, sir." Madame Giry stated, without the slightest doubts. With the timid expression that mirrored her mood, Christine turned to the managers and the ballet instructor. She knew what would follow.

"What, a chorus girl?" Andre voiced, shaking his head. "Don't be silly."

"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher."

"By who?"

Oh, you know, an angel visited me, sent by the spirit of my dead father, Christine thought sarcastically, and he kinda seems like the Phantom of the Opera, but that's just a coincidence. "I don't know his name, Monsieur."

"Let her sing for you. She has been well taught." Madame Giry persisted.

Predictably, the managers complied. Christine felt like she was going to throw up. She always felt like that when she was tense – her stomach suddenly became a complete knot, and she couldn't help it. It would be over only if she would finish the damned song or quit. And judging by the glint in Meg´s eyes, she would be dead before she would say she couldn't do it.

So she tried it.

_Think of me_

_Think of me fondly_

_when we've said goodbye_

_Remember me_

_once in a while_

_please promise me you'll try_

She kept casting the managers nervous glances, but they seemed to be very surprised. Actually, she was surprised as well. She wasn't a bad singer, but this was like with the ballet – an instinct. Like someone else was telling her what to do, how to stand, breathe, how to hold her head in position, everything. And the song sounded much better once she became more confident that she could do it.

_When you find_

_that once again you long_

_to take your heart back and be free_

_If you ever find a moment _

_spare a thought for me_

Behind her, Meg was forcing herself not to grin like a maniac. They had done it! They had passed the first checkpoint! The new Elissa was secured. She remained in the hyper mood until the night of the gala. The house was indeed full, as Firmin had said, and she had her own part to play, though, as Christine had said, if one slave girl would dance badly, it wouldn't be such a tragedy, but if the lead would mess up… Meg almost wanted to slap her. Goddamit, they had nothing to worry about! She knew the steps, Christine knew the songs. It would be fine.

And it was, naturally – her instinct had never failed her.

She was more concerned about what would happen after the gala, when Fopman would rush straight into Christine's dressing room. They had a debate about this and eventually decided to let him do that. It was a risk, they knew, but it was the only way to bait Erik out of his batcave and make him show up without having to throw heavy objects at a perfectly good mirror. Not even Phantoms were immune to jealousy.

Meg felt almost like the Phantom herself, really – she was now the presence in the background that was guiding someone through the events. It was fun, actually. Backstage, she watched Christine in the Sissi hand-me-down, singing the third act of Hannibal, now completely relaxed. She could tell who her friend was thinking of at that exact moment, and it definitely wasn't Piangi!Hannibal.

And it was really true – Meg´s instinct seemed infallible. Christine, back in the future renown for her ability to recite poetry, had stood before large crowds before. She wasn't that afraid of them. She wasn't singing for them. Once or twice she would glance up at the boxes, searching for number 5, but knew already that even if he would be there, she wouldn't be able to notice. Besides, she was fully aware of the fact that _he_ currently was several floors beneath her – she adored that camera dive in the movie.

When Christine had almost finished, Meg noticed the small, stubby man nearby, who was watching the gala. She smirked. Yes, Carlotta's lapdog was there. Oh, she would pay a fortune to see Carlotta faint when she would hear the news that her days were numbered. Well, she would have to wait for the "Notes" scene tomorrow. That would be entertaining.

Applause surrounded Christine when she finished. Inwardly, her mind screamed: "Wow! You did it! You did it! You did it!" The smile was genuine, but she hurried offstage quickly. She knew the next location she would have to get to – the chapel. They had one last "coded" strategy meeting planned there with Meg before she would go to her dressing room. Her smile widened, turning into a maniacal grin not so different from Meg´s.

The real party hadn't even begun yet.


	4. Strategy Session

**Author's notes:** No review responses… I apologise for that. The rules have changed. Anyway, thank you all for the support thus far!

X X X

**Chapter 4 – Strategy Session**

X X X X

Christine hurried off away from the crowd. She wasn't interested in their awed stares and congratulations. This was a carefully planned operation and it required her being present in the chapel as soon as possible. She knew Meg would also hurry up and get there quickly, but not before she would hear the few words of approval she was expecting from her "angel".

Actually, this was her first way of figuring out what kind of Phantom she was dealing with. Everything around her was movie-style, yes, but she was still rather jumpy. If she would get a Leroux version, with a full face helmet, she wouldn't be so certain about things. It would mean that something was twisted. Of course, she was kind of hoping that even O.G. would remain movie-style… but Kay Erik wouldn't be rejected in a million years, if she would have that kind of luck.

The long dress annoyed her. Sissi-style, corseted, and the sleeves were weird. Plus, she wondered how on earth people learned to sing when their waist was about twenty inches. And, naturally, tripping was easy. She didn't like the chapel, either. It was small, far away from the rest of the rooms… it looked like she was walking into a dungeon. She found the candle she was looking for, lit it quickly, and began to stare at the ceiling.

Any minute now… any minute… she frowned. He certainly _was_ taking his sweet time, wasn't he? Then she remembered – she was getting over-eager and did things too quickly. Damn. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed and stopped counting the seconds. Way better.

_Brava, brava, bravissima…_

Christine fought the urge to grin maniacally, much like Amanda would in this situation. Yep, the voice was movie-style… but maybe she had persuaded herself that. She would need physical proof. Now she grinned. She would get it, in about less than fifteen minutes.

Meg almost sprinted down the stairs, causing a whole lot of unnecessary racket that must have scared any eavesdroppers away, landed ballet-style near her friend and nodded frantically. "Good show. The Sissi dress sucks, but otherwise, you rocked."

Christine's grin widened. "Good. I felt like an idiot most of the time, standing there and trying hard not to start screaming the words Carlotta-style, if they like it so much."

"Primaaaaa Donnaaa…" Meg began to mock the song that was soon to be sung by the managers. She shuddered and stuck out her tongue, disgusted. "Stupid song. Wait, scratch that. Stupid managers. Stupid Carlotta. AND her stupid poodles." Meg loved cats.

Christine clapped her hands in a business-like gesture. "Down to business. I don't have much time. So, what's the plan? We have several scenes ahead of us, some really good, some disturbing."

"Yeah, Fopman." Meg smiled evilly. "Oh, he won't know what hit him. Alright, plan. So, Lotte." Christine shuddered and glared at her. She hated the stupid nickname. It sounded like Lotto. "Sweet talk with Rowly. We need to force O.G. out of hiding. If he won't be jealous, in the batcave he remains. Apologise with gusto, act like you're stoned, don't forget to faint AFTER he shows you the voodoo doll, and UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES de-mask him. Got that, Siss?"

"What happened to the good old Angel of Music lyrics?" Christine muttered, but nodded. "Fine, I gotta go. Let's hope "Rowly" will be in a hurry to get out of my dressing room."

She got up, waved at Meg, who gave her the thumbs up and a rock gesture of coolness, and then hurried off to her dressing room.

Meg also got up, seconds later, and thoroughly searched the chapel for any ways out and secret super ninja trapdoors. She found none, but then again, she searched for only about ten seconds, because she had to go oversee the events of the night. Still in her tutu, she played I Spy Rowly for a while, until he got into the dressing room. She remained hidden, but judging by the look on his face when he left a minute later, Christine had forced herself into being nice and then went through the scene as it should be played.

Then, she began gripping the wall behind her. She was well-hidden, fortunately, and knew that she mustn't make the slightest sound. It was dark, but she saw her "beloved mother" clearly, playing Pimp of the Night and I Spy O.G. And then, _he _came. Meg had to stick a fist into her mouth to stop an excited phangirl squeal from emerging from her mouth. It was definitely him. She knew only one person who could do such things with a cape without even trying.

She didn't see much of him, though, definitely not in detail – from her hiding place, she saw mostly his tall dark form and a gleam of white where his face should have been. Narrowly avoiding swooning or tackling him and screaming "MINE!" from the top of her lungs, she gritted her teeth when he retreated. And, despite being overwhelmed by the fact they were in the same room, she noticed him lock the door safely. Now it was all up to Christine. Meg just hoped she would have better self-control when being far closer to him.

Inside the dressing room, Christine had changed into the nightgown. She was completely certain that she wouldn't be sleeping tonight, but the outfit had other purposes. Not that she was a fan of parading herself around in a thin fabric that was low-cut and the stockings that would soon disappear (or not? No phan had ever solved that mystery.), but it would be suspicious if she wouldn't attempt to change.

She could almost hear the drum music come to a crescendo when she placed a hand on the doorknob and a familiar voice resonated through the room, angrily. Fighting the urge to smile, she put on a frightened face. She had been fighting the urge to vomit from the sweet romantic babble with Raoul, but this was far harder.

_Insolent boy_

_This slave of fashion_

_Basking in **your** glory!_

_Ignorant fool_

_This brave young suitor_

_Sharing in **my** triumph!_

Now came the dilemma – sing or speak? The first was strange… but if she wouldn't sing when she was supposed to, it would be weird. Downright weird. She decided to sing, and tried extremely hard to look anywhere BUT at the mirror that was right in front of her. You are an ingénue, she reminded herself. The one-way mirror used by psychiatrists hasn't been invented yet. Wait… spooky thought. You are NOT a psychopath. You are merely chatting up the Phantom of the Opera. She frowned inwardly. Completely normal in this nuthouse of an Opera House.

_Angel, I hear you!_

_Speak, I listen_

_Stay by my side, guide me_

_Angel, my soul was weak_

_Forgive me_

_Enter at last_

_Master…_

She almost bit her lip, waiting for the response. If things would go wrong and he wouldn't comply and come out…­ well, that hairbrush there looked pretty heavy. Bound to be able to break glass when thrown right. Anyway, that would count as a Prima Donna tantrum. It might knock him out if she aimed too high and too hard, but then again… so what? He would deserve it for not obeying the plotline.

And anyway, then she and Meg would be able to de-mask him and he wouldn't waste precious minutes screaming his head off and calling her all sorts of antique insults. And he wouldn't kick her out of the lair, either. Chances are, he wouldn't even remember she had done it. After all, sweet, innocent Christine probably didn't throw brushes at mirrors.

Her nervousness faded a second later, when she heard the reply.

_Flattering child_

_You shall know me_

_See why in shadow I hide_

Good! He would comply. Again, it took immense willpower not to look at the mirror.

_Look at your face in the mirror_

_I am there inside!_

She had known that for the past year, truly, but now she could finally look there. And two impulses collided into each other. Impulse one was to sigh in relief. He was standing in shadow, yes, but it was clear that she hadn't had the misfortune of getting a corpse-like Phantom. Impulse two was the phnagirl squeal, though her rational mind viewed it as childish. So she settled for a dropped jaw and amazed eyes. Of course, for different reasons than he probably thought.

_Angel of Music_

_Guide and guardian_

_Grant to me your glory!_

_Angel of Music_

_Hide no longer_

_Come to me, strange Angel!_

It worked. Though her pace was extremely slow – she wanted to savour the moment – it worked.

_I am your Angel…_

_Come to me, Angel of Music…_

She noticed the mirror slide open and vaguely thought someone was shouting her name from outside the dressing room. But honestly, who cared?

_I am your Angel of Music…_

_Come to me, Angel of Music…_

Her goal was not to appear over-eager, in which she mostly succeeded. Once the mirror slammed shut, Meg was gleefully watching Raoul storm off. She then waited for a few moments, entered the dressing room, and smiled gleefully when she saw golden light emerging from the almost closed mirror trap door.


	5. Returning from the Batcave

**Author's notes:** This has been written all by myself, since Enrinye is on vacation. I hope you like it. ENTER ERIK!

Anyway, short review responses:

**lady kathrin** – this is my favorite part of the movie… here you go!

**angel718**– heh, doesn't everyone want to be me in this story? (wink) Thanks and read on!

**kumikoblue**– which one? I'll have to watch the movie again – Enrinye asked me to find her a hottie to romance… so I'll try. Thanks and read on!

**Nota Lone** – Merci, merci. I like Leroux Phantom, but Kay Erik… (dreamy eyes) my kind of guy!

**PersonageoftheUnderverse** – heh, don't worry, here is the chapter. Yes, a fish indeed!

X X X

**Chapter 5 – Returning from the Batcave **

X X X

The next morning, Christine stepped out of the mirror trap door with nothing short of a dreamy expression on her face. The opening shut itself behind her almost soundlessly, and, after a little procedure to secure that no one would be watching, she immediately collapsed into the nearest chair. What a night! She had truly outdone herself! And… and… everything she saw! It was almost too good to be true…

It took Meg about fifteen seconds to burst through the door with an eager squeal at the sight of her friend, who almost ignored her. Judging by the "I'm-so-in-love-with-the-cape-twirling" look in her eyes, the first part of their "Mission: Impossible" had been successful and she didn't end up being thrown out of the lair right after being told she could never be free. Meg dropped herself into another chair nearby and immediately assaulted the other girl with questions.

They were mostly the usual things any phangirl would ask: How was it? What did he look like? Was the lair cool? And, naturally: Is the cape twirling even sexier live? After three seconds, Christine lost track of what her friend was asking. She was still a bit dazed, but recovering.

"Meg! Meg! AMY!" she shouted when all else failed. Meg fell silent at once – each of them still had some problems with reacting to the new names, but Christine was positive that this had been done on purpose. "I can't understand a word you're saying, hon."

"How bout we shorten the interview?" Meg suggested, still fighting a grin, "Tell me EVERYTHING. You're such a good storyteller." She added when Christine raised an eyebrow. Last time, she had been the one who bought Harry Potter VI first and thus had to retell the important events to her friend in one afternoon.

Christine sighed and leaned back on her chair, smiling distantly. Meg was positive that this was a good sign. "Alright, where do I start?"

"How bout at the beginning?" Meg noted sarcastically.

"I hate you."

"I know. Now speak!"

X X X

Christine had no idea how she was suddenly on the other side of the mirror trap door. The only things she was aware of were that: 1. it was him, 2. he was holding her hand and guiding her down the corridor and 3. man, was he hot. Now she wasn't really even thinking of singing. Somehow, it would seem that in the deep state of shock, she understood the entire essence of staring at a person like they had just revealed themselves to be an alien.

Positively sure that her legs were functioning on their own accord, she followed without question. Everything fitted. The horse was there… and the boat. Vaguely, she remembered the traditional phangirl motto: Save the gondola, ride the Phantom! She almost laughed then and there. Well, she would try very, very hard to save the poor gondola.

Now that he was behind her and she couldn't see him without turning around, she could think more clearly. It was almost like Venice, but she was aware that the lake was part of the Seine. Quietly, she began singing the end coloratura to herself. She had never managed to get that part right…

"Sing, my Angel of Music!"

Christine blinked and her eyes widened at the same time. Okay, this was bad. Well, she could at least try. So she opened her mouth and began singing the notes… and they actually sounded good. She tried the same tune, half a tone higher… not bad…

"Sing for me!"

Well, there _was_ no one else there… who else would she be singing for? So she sang and sang, getting the tones as high as she could. Meanwhile, the lair came into view, and Christine smiled while singing. Waterproof candles, Persian rugs, golden-framed mirrors that were covered with hand-made blankets. Yep, she was in the right story.

Finally, she hit the highest note precisely when she felt the boat touch the shore. She saw him jump out of the boat with an ease she would never be able to manage. Looking down, she saw just how much of her legs was revealed. Not that she cared right now. Wait… she would find out if the stockings vanish and how!

And then it began.

This had always been her favorite part of the story, but seeing it from this point of view was something completely different. It was fortunate that she wasn't a person to faint often, because she felt herself shaking slightly when being guided around the main "room" of the lair. Everything was lit by candles, all the furniture seemed to be hand-made. She saw high quality drawings of buildings, statues, arches… drawings of _her._ Then she felt a hand on her cheek that turned her face and her attention back to her host.

Music of the Night had always been her favorite song, but this was something different entirely. The lyrics, the melody, all of that was the same, but the atmosphere… and his voice! Now she really understood what Andrew Lloyd Weber meant by "a strange sweet sound making her spirit want to soar" and Leroux wanted the voice "hard as thunder or soft as angel's voices, at will" to sound. She was positive she had never heard anything like it.

She had no idea, however, how someone so… so… _gorgeous_…could think themselves ugly. Maybe she was exaggerating, but her teenage hormones were positive that the words she had used in her signature on one of the forums were positively accurate: "What Phantom? I'm talking about the sexgod who lives in the basement!" In short, she thanked J.S. and A.L.W. for their choice of casting a zillion times over the next few minutes. The phangirl in her was having a party.

She was smiling like an idiot, she knew… but she didn't care. He was smiling back at her, leading her away from the organ, to show her something else. When she saw the mannequin, she really almost fainted. It was just too perfect. She had seen her reflection in the mirror over the span of the last few days, true, but this seemed far too beautiful to be her, even as Christine.

_Don't forget to faint! _Meg´s voice repeated in her head. A second later, she tried to do it authentically… and succeeded. Too bad she had to play innocent fainted ingénue, became being carried around gently and laid on the beautiful bed she saw when she opened her eyes very slightly made her want to stop him from leaving. She remembered herself, however. Barely.

_You alone can make my song take flight… _

_Help me make the music of the night… _

Luckily, she knew how to pretend to be asleep. She had used the trick many times. Deep breaths, not too hasty. Relax. Relax completely. (It was proving hard when she could really feel his breath on her skin.) And then the curtain fell and he retreated. Christine opened her eyes slightly. Moments later, soft organ music reached her. She smiled broadly. Now she had to wait for her cue – the monkey music box.

She spotted it at once. How could Meg think it ugly and creepy? she thought. She liked it. Looking down at her legs, she frowned. Stockings were still there. Darn. Well, might as well remove them, to follow the script thoroughly. Thus, she pulled them off quietly and left them on the bed. As soon as she was done, the music box began playing. Turning sharply to look at it, Christine smiled. Yep, it was time.

Straightening up her dress and running a hand through her hair to make sure she looked alright, she put on a mildly curious, mildly surprised face and walked out of her room, observing the lair again. It was wonderful… she looked at things in the correct order. Mist… lake… candles… boat… man…

She smiled slightly when he turned to look at her, and with an unusual timidity, turned away clearly expecting her to react badly.

_Under no circumstances de-mask him! Conversation, small talk. Maybe cry a bit that he tricked you (not that that was hard), but BE NICE!_

Christine nodded to herself very slightly and approached. Still, wouldn't it be better to get it over now, rather than get screamed at later? No… no, it wouldn't be better. No, the screaming meant getting thrown out of the lair. Bad idea. She was here to change the plotline, not to follow it and end up being Viscomtesse de Foppy.

Instead of following the plotline and ignoring Meg´s advice, she stopped on his left and slowly placed a hand on his shoulder, glancing at the music for a moment, then at him. She nearly avoided a smirk. He was so cute when he didn't know what to do.

"I apologize for disturbing your composing." she said, in what she hoped was a nice tone with no echo of the laughter that sounded in her head, "May I… join you?"

"If… if you wish it… Christine." Removing a stack of music sheets from the nearest chair and placing it elsewhere, he motioned to her to sit down, but still seemed bewildered that she hadn't started crying, screaming, or both at the same time.

Christine mumbled a thanks, feeling really ridiculous, because this was the part of the task where it was up to her to improvise… she had formed a plan of some sorts while removing her stockings, but putting it into action was far harder.

Smiling (hopefully) shyly, she pretended to glance around in amazement, absorbing the details of the environment she had missed, but still acutely aware that his eyes never left her face. Returning her gaze to him, she looked down at her feet – it seemed far more timid to do that.

"Might I ask why le Fantôme de L'Opera would want to waste his time tutoring a ballet rat?"

"Because the aforementioned 'ballet rat' deserves to be much more than a member of the corpse de ballet, with her kind of talent. I believe 'Hannibal' proved that to everyone." He said softly, still seemingly uneasy, even more so when Christine looked up.

Christine then glanced around at the music sheets and smiled again, more widely this time. "So the Angel of Music truly exists, then. Perhaps not in the way I imagined, but…" she motioned at the music sheets, "but his music is still divine."

She caught the… something… that passed through his eyes and the fact that he didn't deny it in any way. "I am… not angry, if you believe that. It is just… strange to me. All this is a completely new world. One of… music?"

"Then it is where you belong, is it not?" he inquired, clearly pleased when she nodded.

"Might I ask you something, given that I am in the worse position here? You obviously know far more of me than I know of you." Christine hoped that it would work, but asked the obvious question quickly, not wanting to take any chances. "Why do you live here, beneath the Opera House, why are you the Phantom? With a voice like yours, with so much talent…" she trailed off, but knew he would understand what she meant.

With a deep sigh, he stood up from the organ and paced around a bit, clearly debating with himself what to say. Christine decided to give it one last push… then she would stop. "Is it because of the mask, Monsieur?" she asked quietly. The fact he seemed to almost cringe when she mentioned it was confirmation enough. "I am sorry, it was not my intention to hurt you."

"Not yet." She thought she heard him whisper. Then, he sighed. "Do not ask about the mask, Christine. Someday, perhaps… but not now…" If that didn't translate as 'after our wedding', then she was the Queen of England.

Nevertheless, she nodded, feeling that he would be able to sense it, even though he had his back turned to her. "Very well, I shall not ask. I have only one more thing to ask… might I know your name, Monsieur? I would not wish to refer to you as le Fantôme… and even angels have names, don't they?"

Somehow, it seemed as if he was remembering something very distant, before he bowed his head slightly and almost inaudibly, he said: "Erik. You may call me Erik." Christine smiled. Now, that wasn't so hard. "Come, we must return." He turned back to her, with a twisted smirk. "Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you."

"Let them." Christine said with a shrug. It seemed to surprise him greatly... and not unpleasantly, but still he shook his head.

"Divas don´t disappear after their triumph, Christine. You must return before they think something has happened to you, or they will search for you." Not having thought of that, Christine agreed.

Repeating the journey through the underground labyrinth, Erik let go of her hand only when they were standing behind the mirror. "Will the lessons continue normally or shall I come down to your home?" Christine couldn't help but inquire.

It was as if he was taken aback that she even wanted to continue after this revelation. "If you wish it, Christine." he said quietly, "Whenever you need me, just call for me… I will be there." She could easily see him wondering if he should do it, the moment before he took her hand once more and brought it to his lips, almost not touching it. "Au revoir, Mademoiselle."

"Seulement pour maintenant." Christine noted with a smile, and, not wanting to waste her chance, she seized the moment of surprise and quickly and briefly kissed his unmasked cheek. Then, she almost bounced through the mirror, which she managed to open herself. Once it closed behind her, she turned again and smiled, then walked out of the room… only to stop behind the door to catch her breath. She then reentered and sat down.

She knew what effect her words would have – she could only imagine the wonderfully hopeful look on his face. Yes, goodbye… but only for now.

Fifteen minutes later, Meg squealed: "You did it!" and high-fived her friend.


	6. I Spy and Giggle

**Author's notes:** I'd like to ask you guys a favor – please go here:

www. phantomfans . net/ board / index.php?showtopic8892&st175

(WARNING: I put spaces in the url, because this site doesn't post url addresses normally. if the link is bad, please go to PhantomFans. Net and search for "Official Recording: Instrumentals", or something like that. "Instrumentals" is enough for the search. Then go to the last page of the thread – the post is there)

scroll down and find randomperson´s post:

"okay.. i FINALLY uploaded all of the insturmentals i have!

The Phantom of the Opera backings

enjoy!

they all should be there!

have fun!"

and download it from that link.

and send it to dartharachne (spaces again, beware those. My address is a normal yahoo account with the username dartharachne . PLEASE DO NOT SEND IT TO THE ADDRESS IN MY PROFILE.) I accidentally erased it from my pc and am to be performing with some of the zipped stuff, thus I am in dire need of it. Due to some problems with the speed of my internet connection, it would take me hours, but surely someone has a faster connection, so please help. The person who sends it gets a sneak-peek of the next chapter, which is still in the works. Thanks a lot!

P.S. Naturally, keep the file, if you like it. It contains PotO stuff you might want to use, if you're into singing, as I am.

**onelastchance** – thanks! Here you go!

**Wea** – Merci, merci.

**Nota Lone** – Naturally. Well, Regina means Queen in Latin, so… you never know ;)

**angel718** – thanks!

**lady kathrin** – I loved Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka. I think it was his best movie yet. Thanks and read on!

**PersonageoftheUnderverse**– thanks for the praise, here you go!

X X X

**Chapter 6 – I Spy and Giggle**

X X X X

"_Marguerite Eloise Giry!"_

The two girls stopped immediately. They were on their way to the ballet dormitories – Christine hadn't slept all night (though being used to late nights and early mornings from her high school bookworm days) and, all things considered, neither had Meg – but the voice of Madame Giry made them both stop dead in their tracks. Christine sniggered at the full name. Meg frowned. She didn't like the middle name. Scratch that, she didn't like the full name. That was probably why the name Meg stopped bugging her so much. Forcing a calm expression, she turned around.

"Oui, Maman?"

"Where have you been! I've been looking all over the building for you!" Madame Giry, the sternly clad ballet mistress said in a demanding tone, arms folded when she got near. Then, as if noticing Christine for the first time, she gave the other girl a strange look, like she was trying to read her mind.

Meg sighed. "Maman, Christine…"

"…has returned, I see that. I will investigate her badly timed disappearance later." It was obvious what would follow, thus Christine looked down at her feet. But Madame Giry went back to scolding her daughter. "Ballet practice begins in two hours. I see you are already in your tutu, which is good. Go wake up the other girls, then meet me in the main hall. I must speak with the managers, they should be arriving soon." Christine tried to spot the envelope with the skull seal, but couldn't. Either it wasn't there yet, or Giry hid it too well.

"Christine needs rest." Meg noted, remembering her lines. "I was escorting her to the dormitories…"

"She can walk, can't she? And she knows the way. Now go!" it sounded like was shooing a particularly persistent kitten that wanted to tear her dress apart. Meg scowled, but nodded and departed with a secret wink at Christine, who couldn't help but smile.

Once even the last fabric of Meg´s tutu disappeared, Christine opened her mouth to speak. "Madame Giry, I apologize, I…"

"Hush, child." The ballet mistress said in a quiet tone. She looked around, then put a hand under Christine's chin and forced her to look up. For the first time, Christine didn't have to feign uncertainty and nervousness. "You need not tell me." Something close to a smile appeared on her face. "Your eyes are smiling, dear… I would assume I need not scold either of you." But then she was serious again. "Tell no one of what you saw."

Christine nodded, feeling relieved. "I promise, Madame Giry."

"Good girl. Now, if my daughter was right about anything today, it was about you being tired. Go get some rest." The ballet mistress said motherly. "I shall tell the managers of your return."

It was only when Christine lay down on her bed that she understood that Giry had not revealed anything at all… not directly, anyway. She grinned. Clever woman. Perhaps next time during practice, she should pay more attention after all. Maybe she would be able to dance the ballet yet.

X X X

In her entire life, be it Meg Giry´s or Amanda´s, Meg hadn't laughed so hard.

Her face was almost red from the suppressed giggles as she watched, secretly, the scene in front of her. First André, then Firmin - the managers had arrived. And each had a letter. An all-too-familiar letter… and their hysterics were so laughable! Even the petty insults, the yelling – all was just way too funny. She couldn't have planned it all out better if she would have done it herself.

Then Raoul came… she actually almost began to pity him. Almost being the keyword. The poor foppish Vicomte had no idea that there was almost a conspiracy against him in the Opera Populaire. Then Carlotta… the dead pink thing on her reminded Meg of a funny avatar she had seen at the "official" PotO website. She couldn't help but giggle quietly.

Madame Giry arrived faster than Meg would have anticipated though, and silenced her with a pointed look. La famille Giry entered the scene, and Meg tried hard to look innocent. "Notes" went as they were supposed to, only Meg constantly kept rolling her eyes and quietly mocking Carlotta's accent and movement. No one noticed, fortunately, least of all the managers and Carlotta.

When the crowd of Christine's admirers tried to barge in and several asked Carlotta to deliver roses to "the lovely Miss Daaé", "Prima Donna" began. Meg hated the song, thus she departed, straight for the ballet dormitories. When Carlotta was pleased, it was much less fun than when she was squeaking and having tantrums.

She found Christine in the dorms, naturally, trying to sleep. However, Meg knew it always took Christine at least an hour to fall asleep, since she always kept imagining things and "daydreaming", even though it was night. She sat down on her friend's bed and, predictably, two brown eyes opened and a grin formed on Christine's face.

"So, how was it?"

Meg rolled her eyes, but smirked. "They're kissing Carlotta's gigantic backside right now. I'd have vomited if I wouldn't have left the scene. What's the next scene?"

"Il Muto." Christine noted, unenthusiastically. "We have to study an opera this time! It's not automatically in my mind now."

"That's just because you didn't have your lesson yet!" Meg eagerly said, "Anyway, as Serafimo, you just have to strut around the stage, looking pretty. You concern yourself with the Countess´ lines."

"Oh, that." Though in the musical and the movie, that scene wasn't shown, it was well known that Christine had to finish Il Muto after the "unfortunate" toad incident.

"When is your lesson?"

"We start at six, as usual."

"Nick one of the capes! I wanna see!" Meg whined. "I didn't get a close look when he was locking your door."

Christine smirked. "You'll have to wait for Il Muto. He'll appear there. I have precisely eight hours left to sleep. Now shoo!" she added with a mock scowl. "I wanna sleep."

"Ooh, the Prima Donna needs her beauty sleep." Meg mocked.

For that, a pillow flew straight at her head, hitting her point-blank.


	7. Stairchase with a Cat

**Author's notes**: I got the backings, so now I have good materials to practice my soprano! Il Muto and the beginning of AIAOY, guys! Anyway, chocolate for people who guess where the song is from! It should be pretty obvious...

**angel718** - heh

**Enrinye** – Thanks, Z. Yes, those are the expected questions.

**PersonageoftheUnderverse** – I understand the word "kawaii", so don't worry. Thanks a lot. My Japanese is limited to greetings and such, but I used to be a fan of enough cartoons to know what kawaii means :)

**onelastchance**– thanks a lot!

**Nyltiak** – I will, or at least, I will try to. Thanks and read on!

**lady kathrin** – Ich spreche Deutsch, also mach dir keine Sorgen. Danke, hier ist mehr!

**Nota Lone**** –** Yes, pillows rule the world! Anyway, here you go!

**phantomphan85** – here is another chapter.

X X X

**Chapter 6 – Stair-chase with a Cat**

X X X

Later that afternoon, Christine finally got out of bed (after being threatened with a bucket of icy water by Meg) and moved to checkpoint 2 – the dressing room. She was still early, she knew. Normally, she would put on some make-up and try to fix her dress, but a part of her told her that it would be too modern to try to impress a ghost that waltzed out of your mirror with your good looks, no matter how hot he may be.

She dressed plainly, sat down in the dressing room and waited patiently. Her script – the one she knew she would be rehearsing with Erik – was on her vanity. Raising an eyebrow in understanding when she saw that it was the Countess´ part, she didn't have to sit there for long. In no time, a voice rang through the room.

"Christine…"

Biting back a mischievous grin, she smiled brilliantly and walked towards the mirror, which swung open as she approached, revealing the only person who could ever come up with the idea of a mirror trap door, having created many similar gadgets in the past.

"Good afternoon, Erik." She noted politely, slightly pleased to see that he seemed surprised that she treated him so civilly. Then, he must have remembered that she had no idea of his circumstance, but dismissed the thought. When he said nothing, she added: "I have the script, but… I thought you knew – I didn't get the lead this time. I play the Pageboy." with a good show of uncertainty, since she really didn't know what his reaction would be.

"You need not worry about that. The silent part shall go to the one who deserves it – Carlotta. We will rehearse the lead. Last time, I also told you that you would be Elisa, did I not?" Christine nodded, fishing in her dual memory for that memory. "And you got that part. It will be the same with this production."

His tone suggested that the matter was settled, so Christine decided to remain silent and followed him down to the lair. Though there was no singing this time, it was as entertaining as ever. The self-igniting candelabras still amused her, and she tried to remember the way down this time. She even realized that the tunnel was indeed a bit darker and gloomier than she thought it was.

Christine knew she had rehearsed operas before, but that was before she lost her ingénue persona. It was just a memory – now, she got to get first-hand training. It wasn't easy. Then again, she didn't expect it to be. It took her a lot of time to pronounce the words and sing them at the same time, breathing was a bit of an issue, but overall, she thought she did quite well for her first try.

"We shall continue tomorrow." Erik said after what seemed like hours. Christine sat down with a curt nod, hoping to catch her breath after a particularly long coloratura.

After about a minute, she noticed him watching her, so she smiled reassuringly. "I am alright, but a bit sleepy – I've had little sleep yesterday."

He nodded slightly. "Understandable – you are not yet used to all the crowds of admirers." There was a note of bitterness in his voice, so Christine decided to go for the best approach.

"Attempts to escape from them are exhausting, yes." It seemed to have gotten the right reaction, from what she saw in his eyes from afar. "But the training is more important than my sleep right now… Il Muto is not that far away."

Observing her for a moment, Erik noted quietly: "You will play the lead, Christine. Don't concern yourself with anything other than studying the part."

"Even if I don't, I can still sing it for you." Christine added, beaming. She had other things on her mind as well, without having to study the main part of an opera, but knew that it was crucial to their success on the long way.

She could see his lips form a small smile. "And you can sing part of a song for Carlotta as well. You have to change the pronoun, though. Page 31." He instructed when she peered at him quizzically.

Christine picked up her script and searched for the page. When she found it, she stared at it at first, then smiled, then laughed merrily, fully aware that she was being watched closely. But it seemed that for once, even though her singing entirely perfect, because she was still suppressing giggles, Erik had nothing to comment.

_Pooooooooooooooooooorrrrrrr fool, she makes me laugh, hahahahaha…_

X X X

The double rehearsals – the official ones and the lessons – were pretty much exhausting, and Christine began feeling the strain soon. With no other way to do this, she began drinking coffee – she would have preferred coke, but there was little of that in the nineteenth century, thus she had to give up any hopes of finding that particular soft drink.

Meg, who was very much occupied with her own rehearsals, had taken up the task of planning "AIAOY" and the night of Il Muto. They had a bit of a fight with Christine about that – Meg wanted to go "by the book", so that they would get to "DOM" without problems, but Christine refused to spend months with Raoul and no one else, so there was a slight problem with that.

They hardly even had time to talk now, if they wanted to be well rested for the next day. The schedule was training, eating, sleeping. It didn't allow anything else. But as the opening night of Il Muto approached, both were confident that they had done their best. Meg was getting pretty good at the dancing, and she was actually beginning to enjoy it, thinking of it as of a parody – and since Il Muto was a comedy, she decided she liked it a bit more than Hannibal.

Christine's rehearsals were getting demanding. As Seraphimo, all she had to do was know when to gasp, where to go and what to do. The worst part was getting close enough to Carlotta to pretend they were kissing behind the various objects the diva would hold on the stage, since the Prima Donna always gave her such a ridiculous sour face that Christine had to restrain herself from laughing in her face. She didn't, once, and got a lecture from Monsieur Reyer… but after Carlotta was gone and Meg proceeded to do a parody of her in front of the whole staff, Christine's reactions were understood by all.

What concerned Christine more were the lessons with Erik. She was a bit anxious each time, because she had to improvise a bit. The basic rule was not to ask about the mask. As long as she left that subject alone, everything was fine. But if it was hard to work with him watching, it was even harder to pretend she didn't notice when they weren't working, and she was mostly having a bit of a tour of the lair.

It would have been understandable that he wanted to make sure she didn't get lost of break something… but Christine knew better. Consequently, when she found her stockings carefully folded on the bed where she had slept, she burst into silent giggles that fortunately weren't heard, since he was playing the organ at the time. She would have very much liked to see the look on his face when he found those, but decided to ask later.

At the night of the show, she was keen to get into her costume. She loved the old-fashioned crinolines, but having a chance to wear trousers again – even if it would be breeches and not comfortable Kenvelo jeans – was more than welcome. This time, Meg had a laugh about her own costume.

X X X

_Pooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr fool_

_he makes me laugh_

_hahahahaha!_

Christine had to resist the urge to roll her eyes for the zillionth time. Carlotta was trying to sing elaborately, so she was worse than ever. The ensemble was good, she noticed, Don Attilio and Mini-Piangi were hilarious, and she once again strutted around the stage like a queen, occasionally hiding behind Carlotta's poodle lady costume skirt. It would be amusing if the gigantic wig would fall off, she thought, but she still occasionally, looked at the throat spray that was nearby.

Then, she spared a glance seemingly at the chandelier, but could now distinguish a dark shape behind it. Faintly, she smiled and glanced at Meg, who noticed it a split second later, but by then, everyone had been alerted to its presence, when a booming voice rang through the opera house.

"Did I not instruct that Box 5 was to be kept empty?" There was annoyance, irritation and mild anger in that simple statement, and though he might have spoken the words quietly, it sounded almost like a roar.

"It's him – the Phantom of the Opera!" Meg whispered to the other performers, knowing that it was her job to say this every time he appeared.

Christine almost didn't remember that she had to start the toad incident. "It's him…" she whispered then, almost only mouthing the words. If anyone had paid attention, they would have realized that the words weren't spoken with fear – quite the opposite.

Carlotta was never one of the world's greatest thinkers, though. "Your part is silent, little toad!" she hissed at Christine, turning to the audience with a brilliant and slightly forced smile.

Frowning, Christine muttered: "And yours _should_ be silent," adding two very 21-century-ish swearwords to that, forming the initials f. b. and, to be polite, calling the diva a female dog that was in the process of mating. Carlotta didn't seem to have heard her, or, if she had, chose to ignore her.

Again, she began singing the lines, after having her dose of throat spray. Christine and Meg exchanged a smirk. She was two thirds into the "hahaha" line, when she began croaking. Meg didn't even bother biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. It wasn't worth it – the scene was too funny. After several loud croaks, Christine was holding the bed prop for support, she was laughing so hard. The whole audience roared with laughter, and Meg saw even Raoul chuckle a bit in his box.

Two very pale and near-vomiting looking managers emerged on the scene when the curtain fell, speaking their expected lines. Christine, who had been in the middle of laughing with Meg, who came closer to have a brief chat, felt a hand grab her arm and yank her forward. Suddenly, she was in front of the audience, her eyes widening a bit.

"…when the role of the Countess will be played by Miss Daaé!" Firmin announced, still a bit shaky. The audience stopped smiling – the aftermath of their laughter – and began to applaud her. Before Christine had a chance to even smile at them, André pushed her back behind the curtain.

"Go, go, go!" he mouthed and she felt Madame Giry rush to her aid, taking her to her dressing room.

"…the b-b-b-ballet from act three!" André stuttered, and Meg burst into silent giggles. Then she realized that she had to get off stage – she wasn't dressed properly for that particular scene, and anyway, if a corpse was supposed to be dangling from the flies soon, she didn't want to risk anything.

She had never liked Buquet anyway.

X X X

A red rose with a black ribbon – Christine found it in her dressing room as she changed into half her next costume and her "Little Red Riding Hood" cape. Madame Giry was watching her carefully, but when Meg´s practiced scream rang through the opera house, Christine didn't waste any time. Immediately, she ran out of the dressing room and made a beeline for the roof.

"Christine, wait!" she heard someone – Raoul, probably – call after her, but she wasn't about to give him the chance to catch up. If there was anything she refused to be doing, it was doing the Disney-style romance scene with him. Not that he wasn't kind of sweet, but when she had to choose between him and you-know-who, there wasn't really any choice to make.

Even though she was in a long dress, he couldn't really compete with her when it came to running up the stairs. When you climb up to the top of St. Peter's basilica in Rome on a hot sunny day, which has at least a dozen staircases and over three hundred stairs, a few dozen stairs isn't nearly enough to scare you.

She had just shut the door when she realized that there was no way out of the rooftop. Either she would hide somewhere, or she could climb up and get to the real roof of the opera, or she would face the cliché sweet comforting of a lovesick fop. There was no chance of climbing in that dress, and she wasn't proficient enough in it to climb that high. Therefore, she chose option no 1.

The hem of the red cape had just vanished behind the nearest statue when she heard footsteps and the door quickly opened somewhere behind her.

"Christine!" Raoul´s voice called out.

_He can't possibly be this stupid,_ Christine thought_. He's bound to search and find me. _

but apparently, Raoul was under the impression that Christine would rush to him the moment she would hear him, so he didn't bother searching. Perhaps he simply thought he took a wrong turn somewhere and lost her in the corridors.

With a sigh of relief, she stepped into the light from behind the statue, panting a bit and holding a hand over her lungs. She then froze. She didn't have a plan, and Erik was bound to be nearby. And throwing a tantrum would be a bad move, should he choose to reveal himself now.

_Think… think, think, think_, she told her mind over and over again. and then, after a few painful seconds when she pretended to go get a better view of Paris at night, she got an idea. It would seem weird, perhaps, but she thought it would be a nice touch. For a moment, she considered "Learn to be Lonely", but decided that it would give the wrong impression – and it would be weird that she knew the melody. Instead, she chose another song.

_Daylight  
See the dew on the sunflower  
And a rose that is fading  
Roses whither away  
Like the sunflower  
I yearn to turn my face to the dawn  
I am waiting for the day . . . _

Midnight  
Not a sound from the pavement  
Has the moon lost her memory?  
She is smiling alone  
In the lamplight  
The withered leaves collect at my feet  
And the wind begins to moan

Memory  
All alone in the moonlight  
I can smile at the old days  
I was beautiful then  
I remember the time I knew what happiness was  
Let the memory live again

Every streetlamp  
Seems to beat a fatalistic warning  
Someone mutters  
And the streetlamp gutters  
And soon it will be morning

Daylight  
I must wait for the sunrise  
I must think of a new life  
And I musn't give in  
When the dawn comes  
Tonight will be a memory too  
And a new day will begin

Burnt out ends of smoky days  
The stale cold smell of morning  
The streetlamp dies, another night is over  
Another day is dawning

Touch me  
It's so easy to leave me  
All alone with the memory  
Of my days in the sun  
If you touch me  
You'll understand what happiness is

Look  
A new day has begun

She didn't necessarily crescendo as much as she should have – the song was more of a whisper, actually, but she hoped it would have the desired effect. Surely enough, she was genuinely startled when a voice sounded almost directly from behind her.

_Christine…_


	8. GSL

**Author´s notes:** NEXT CHAPTER! Alright, I know you guys will never forgive me for doing this, but Enrinye is a total psycho (kidding… well, I'm actually quoting her, so there´s no need to take it seriously – honestly, who takes psychos seriously? ;) ) and she wanted Meg to have her own love interest. Immediately rejecting the idea of romancing a rejected fop, we had to think a bit to develop a new character based entirely on her personal preferences and wishes. Then, I came up with the crazy idea you will see later – it just hit me. anyhow, it´s way too short, nothing really happens, but Meg gets to kick some serious ass and find her dreamguy. Christine and Erik return in the next chapter.

**raoulisafop** – (gives chocolate) Correct, Memory it is! I love the song. Thanks for your the support, read on!

**lady kathrin** – more Erik in da next chapter.

**PersonageoftheUnderverse**** –** here it is!

**Aradia-Rose88** – thanks! I changed both Christine and Meg a lot, so I hope that works for you. If you like C with more backbone, read my fic Descending Dreams, please.

**silver spear** – thanks, read on!

**unseengenius** – The song´s from Cats. Read on!

**Nota Lone** – heer ees eet!

**onelastchance**** –** too bad, so sad, no rooftop now!

**mrs. malfoy** – here it is!

**Enrinye** - ;-)

X X X

**Chapter 8 – GSL**

X X X X

Meg was running round the stage, pretty much like the rest of the people nearby – the only difference was that they were shrieking and running in circles like headless chickens. She had a pretty clear idea of what to do, and her task had been completed thus far. Still, it was getting a bit uncomfortable where she was standing, and she wanted to be able to stop shrieking. If she would stop here, it would ruin the scenery. She had to get back to her dressing room or something.

Unfortunately, the fact that everyone was crazed with fear and didn't really care about shoving people out of the way to get to "safety", she got pretty much bumped into the wall a few times. Meg cursed out loud, but remained unheard… nearby, performers were trying to calm the sheep… and Meg landed unceremoniously on her backside when she missed the wall after a particularly hard push.

"What the f…?" she managed to yelp before hitting the ground. The stupid dress she was wearing made it worse. Scowling, she crawled away on her knees, then jumped into the orchestra pit – the players had long since vacated it, so no one was there. She knocked over a bassoon or something like that and her skirt got caught on another thing, but she yanked it free easily. Still, she dropped to the ground and ended on her knees. She wasn't that used to jumping off ledges.

Feeling some slight pain in her hand, she raised it to examine it. what she saw made her groan out loud. Not only was she stuck in a stupid dress, in a ridiculous situation, but she had also managed to oh-so-ingeniously break her nail.

_Wonderful._

Meg scowled again. when she found out they were in PotO, she envisioned something more fun than breaking nails. She wanted action, adventure, maybe a bit of romance… a lot of gothic into it, naturally. NOT breaking nails and insane mobs.

"Are you alright?"

Still scowling, Meg looked up from her broken nail and for a moment forgot the scene and her complaints. If it was possible for dollar bills and hearts to appear in a person´s eyes at once, than that´s probably what happened to Meg at the moment. She had been looking for some handsome guy in the opera, since the local phantom was taken and there was little chance he had any free male relatives, but so far unsuccessfully.

_Oh my God…_ In about three seconds – the time it took her to absorb the full sight of him – the conscious phan(and fan)girlish part of her mind decided that she was prepared for anything but this guy standing over her took her breath away. There were three words that could describe him in Meg´s mind at the current moment: Tall, dark and handsome. Just the type of guy that Amy fancied in the "real" world. _And those eyes. _Vivid blue eyes, the most beautiful eyes that Meg has ever seen. Eyes Regina would describe as Dumbledore-ish. He reminded Meg a bit of Jason Isaacs that is THE man of her dreams. She must have looked like an idiot because after a moment her anonymous "hotness" repeated his question.

"Mademoiselle, are you alright?" He asked with some concern. Evidently, he was a tad unfamiliar with 21st century ways of showing "I like you"… or rather, "U R da hotness, baby".

The repeated question and a scream not too far away brought Meg back to reality. Shaking her head (to sober herself more than to say no) she attempted a pained expression and tried to think of some part of her body that could hurt without any outward signs.

The headshake was probably misunderstood, however. Again, lack of knowledge of crazy fangirl behavior could prove lethal (or at least endangering) to ignorant hot guys from past centuries and in a moment, Meg was learning how to master the "deer-in-highlights" look while the man inspected her arm, probably seeing that she had clutched it a moment ago.

After a minute, he frowned. "You seem lucky, Mademoiselle – no broken bones. Just a few bruises. You shouldn't stay here, though."

Meg attempted a serious face but failed a bit, still slightly dazed. "Um… yes. Yes, the crowd is kinda hysteric."

Taking the already offered hand, Meg was pulled to her feet a bit too quickly for her own liking, but the sudden proximity was enough to make it up to her. However, things went rather slowly in this century – and that meant that there was no "My hero!" scene thing and all the snogging that came with it. instead, the man took a step back and guided Meg out of the pit through the orchestra entrance.

Meg sighed in slight relief – the yelling wasn't that loud down here. "Thanks for that, sir." She smiled giddily, feeling less than comfortable. Flirting in the past wasn't that easy if you didn't want to look like a total whore.

Once the smile was returned, Meg almost forgot what she had decided to do – introduce herself. After a second of staring, she cleared her throat a bit and straightened up. "My-my name´s Meg… Meg Giry."

"Short for Marguerite, I take it?"

Meg laughed shakily and winced a bit. "Unfortunately."

Again, her insides were dancing once he said with a smile: "I think it´s a wonderful name, Mademoiselle."

Meg blushed. _Sucks that it´s not my name, then. _"Marguerite Eloise Giry then, Monsieur. A pleasure."

A second later, she wished she had something to cool her face and her hormones down when he raised her hand and brushed it against his lips lightly. "Gaston Sebastian Leroux. On the contrary, Mademoiselle Giry. The pleasure is all mine."

The cooling came all too quickly.

_Houston… we´ve got a huuuuuuuuuge sexy problem._

X X X

DUN! DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN! Hehe. Crazy, isn´t it? Anyhow, in case there are any people reading this who know Leroux´s bio, they know that some things are made up/changed. The point it, we know about it. We just don't care.


	9. Karate Chris can keep cool

**Author´s notes: **For those of you wondering how I came up with the idea of Leroux in the story: we were searching for a French surname for Meg´s hottie, and the name Gaston was on the list of French names… and it just sort of hit me that it might be good. Anyway, Enrinye wanted him to be called Sebastian, but complied and it became his middle name. Note – Leroux didn't have a middle name, to our knowledge. Alright, next chapter! And this one is even a bigger cliffhanger than the last one! Anyway, ROOFTOP SCENE CONTINUES!

**unseen-presence** – Yeah, Enrinye was surprised as well when I suggested having Leroux there… read on!

**Phantom'sJediBandieGirl** – don't you worry, we can handle the twist and turn it into an acceptable plotbunny… and besides, smooth? I don't think so.

**AngelOfMusic387** – yes, romance is to come! Thanks for reading, I hope you really like it. yes, most is going alright, but don't let yourself be fooled – twists are to come! Thanks again and read on.

**Onelastchance **– (whips out lightsaber and slashes vegetables) Any other takers? (grin) (saber glitters eerily) Anyhow, rooftop scene continues here.

**Raoulisafop **– the only photos of him I found are where he´s middle aged or older, so no idea what he looked like before… read on!

**Erik's Phantomess** – heh, naturally… here´s some more, thanks for reading and reviewing!

**mrs. Malfoy** - yeah, Enrinye was actually waiting for you to review, for obvious reasons. Gotta love Lucius ;) Anyway, Jason rocks. Here´s another chapter.

**Nota Lone –** too true – who cares about it? It's a phanphic! Anyhow, sexy!Leroux might be one of a kind… read on!

**Enrinye –** (cough) Jason Isaacs (cough) :)

X X X

**Chapter 9 – Karate Chris can keep cool**

X X X X

Christine, or rather Regina, trained to be able to fend off people who sneak up on her by several fast martial art motions that included a hand around their throat, jumped, startled, then realized that she wasn't supposed to try to stun him, and that her chances of success in stunning someone proficient in handling a Punjab lasso were low. Since that happened in the span of three seconds, she half-stopped herself from a good kick she was about to deliver, which resulted in her hitting her right foot against the edge of the roof, hard.

She was still turned away from him, so she bit back the stream of insults that was about to get out of her mouth. Shutting her eyes tight, that resulted with tears falling from her eyes, more because of anger than pain, and she wasn't able to wipe them without him seeing – and that counted as a bad thing. She didn't know she looked as if she had been crying for a while now, but imagined that it would be misinterpreted quite badly… probably to her advantage.

Turning on her heel, she came face to face – as she had expected – with none other than Erik. That was the good part. The bad part was that she didn't know what to say. What does a person say after someone they trust just happen to kill someone, anyway? She didn't like Buquet… but she didn't approve of murder, either (though she did not deny that it was an effective way of solving the problem).

She compensated with opening her mouth twice to speak, but only looked like a freshly caught fish, which was probably what the Christine part of her would have done, anyway, and it seemed to be mostly the reaction Erik would believe to get. What really surprised her was that he actually looked worried what her next reaction would be (once she would recover the power of speech).

"Christine…" he repeated, taking a step forward, "Don't be afraid."

"Should I be?" Christine asked, swallowing, "When I displease you during singing lessons," she knew well that was total nonsense, but wanted to appear a bit more ingénue-like and that meant she had to be clueless to the obvious signs of affections… at least she hoped that was right. The movie taught her that, anyway. "will you also hang me?"

Erik seemed to be totally stunned by the mere idea, but looked more saddened that she would even think that than anything else, but then said: "I doubt it, my dear. You see, your performances are as stunning as always… I see little gain from killing my only student."

Christine shook her head in disbelief. "And what have you gained from killing that man!"

"Many reasons. To be brief, trying to follow me was a bad idea… especially on a night like this." He paused, clearly thinking of an even clearer explanation. "Temper."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Christine turned away. "And these… fits of rage… do they come often? For no reason at all?" There were times when it was good to be friends with someone who had wanted to become a psychologist, and this was one of them. "Why? Why is the only solution you can think of murder?"

No answer came.

Christine sighed again. She was running out of lines. "I don't agree with this…but talking about it won't change anything. But it made me realize that… I don't know you." Turning back to him, she attempted a desperate expression. She had a lot of guts, trying to attempt what she was about to attempt, but this was a time for desperate measures. And cliché lines. "And…" _Remain hesitant, Chris, _she reminded herself, "I… I'd like to… know you."

_Get it? Get it! Should I point at your face, honey! Or do we do this the hard way and I snatch the thing… because, you know, it's a big obstacle in our relationship, ya know. Trust, it's called. _Christine mentally yelled, _And one day, I'll have to do it, any I'm not in the mood to be yelled at right now, so be a good Phantom and let's get this over with. _

He seemed to get it, that was for sure, but Christine decided that she had to say it outright – she doubted he'd do it if she wouldn't ask. Scratch that, plead. Unable to think of a convincing line, she took a step towards him, raising her hand. Now she wasn't faking the uncertain face any longer. If this wouldn't work, it could end badly. Still, it was worth a try.

"May I?" she asked, taking yet another step. _I'm still alive, I'm still alive._

There was no outward reaction from him, he merely continued to look at her, almost as if he had gotten a proper look at her for the first time ever. This intimidated Christine far more by anything else. The fact that he didn't flinch or move away when she finally reached for the mask was a bit encouraging, but she caught a glimpse of the distinctly sad look in his eyes that she translated as "You're going to regret this, my dear."

For only a second, her hand rested on the mask, then she swiftly pulled it off.

X X X

Meg was speechless.

She was staring at him, she knew well, but this was just ridiculous. Gaston Leroux? Of all the guys she could have met… _Leroux? THE Leroux!_ _Alright, this is bad._ Meg thought, biting her lip for a moment. This made no sense. This was the musical-turned-movie, not the novel! Anyway, she didn't have time to concern herself with this miraculous appearance of the famous author, because she was aware that she was supposed to continue the conversation.

She compensated the shock with a weak but happy laugh, as if it were just a good joke. "Thank you again for saving me, Monsieur Leroux."

"No need, Mademoiselle Giry. I daresay any man would have hasted to your aid, should you ever need it." Meg finally smiled. "But the appearance of the body and the other peculiar events of tonight are rather… strange, wouldn't you say?"

Meg waved a hand dismissively. "It's only natural, Monsieur. You don't go round upsetting Le Fantôme dell´Opera and expect him to be nice to you afterwards."

As mundane as it seemed to her, it appeared to have caught his interest. "There have been rumors of a ghost in this Opera house… but only rumors. I would assume the voice we had all heard tonight was this… phantom?"

"Oh, yes." Meg said, nodding. "Box 5 is his reserved seat, everyone knows that. the new managers sold it – an unwise move, if you ask me – and he got mad. He's never appeared before, so this was very exciting… before the murder happened, naturally." She added, to sound normal. "He usually only sends notes with instructions."

"Indeed?" Leroux asked, genuinely interested. "I'd like to hear more of this – it seems fascinating to hear an insider's account of things. If it wouldn't bother you, Mademoiselle, perhaps we could meet sometime and talk about this…?"

Meg beamed, trying hard not to seem too eager. _Jackpot, jackpot! _"Oh… oh, naturally, Monsieur!" _Stop smiling, idiot! _She scolded herself. "When?"

"Tomorrow, perhaps? I could come here for you and take you for lunch, if you would like to."

_Deal, honey! _"Alright, then." Meg said with a smile.


	10. Sleeping Beauty style doesn't pay off

**Author's notes:** Mwahahahahahahaha….

**mrs. malfoy** – I like Tom Felton… though I think they portrayed Draco wrongly in HP3 the movie, he wasn't supposed to be such a crybaby… anyway, to my knowledge, Enrinye likes Draco as a character, but doesn't like TF. Lucius Malfoy is more like it (Jason Isaacs, naturally).

**Unseen-Presence** – poor, poor you. Anyway, I hope this makes it up to you a bit… next chapter!

**onelastchance** – well, more cliffhangers here! Read on!

**Phantom'sJediBandieGirl** – a plotbunny is a plotline idea. Yes, I must. Writers do that. as a reader, I hate cliffhangers, so I share your sentiments. As a writer, though…

**Nota Lone** – ah, good. Now, read on to see what happens!

**Willyrka** – thank you very much, here's some more!

**lady kathrin** – here! Another chapter! Whoo-hoo!

**raoulisafop **– thanks! No, Christine doesn't mess up at all!

**Enrinye** – heheh, you know my style, Z. … here's more!

X X X

**Chapter 10 – "Sleeping Beauty" style doesn't pay off**

X X X X

Christine didn't shriek, of scream, of let out any high-pitched sound a more squeamish female wouldn't have been able to hold back. Only a small gasp caught in her throat, perhaps because she subconsciously knew it would seem very strange if she wouldn't react in any way. Truthfully, she had expected nothing less than what she saw… but compared to the (in the phan community) legendary Sunburn of Doom, this was far more book-like.

To be brief, the now unmasked half of his face looked far more like a skull, almost fleshless, covered with only thin, pale and sallow skin that didn't quit hide the veins. Deep scar-like gashes showed places where skin almost disappeared… had she not seen enough horror movies, Christine might have been slightly panicky about that.

Overall, however, she could bear the sight quite easily, being a 21st century girl. It was… unique, true, but she had seen people who looked far worse. In fact, had she uncovered the Sunburn of Doom, she might have been more uncomfortable with it.

"You aren't screaming, Christine." Erik noted, almost as if commenting the weather. But Christine could see that now, he wasn't as passive as before. Eyes spoke leagues for him – she could see a clearly noticeable amount of anxiety, surprise and… fear.

Even if she would have tried to smile, it would have come out as a grimace. Instead, grasping the mask in her right hand, she reached out with her left, with just the right amount of shakiness and softly traced one of the gashes, her expression showing pity despite her attempt not to.

"It isn't frightening. It is… tragic." Christine noted, after a moment's search for a suitable word. Finally, she managed a sad half-smile. "But…" _Line, line! _"This haunted face holds no horror for me now." _Amend the second part. _"Your soul is what is to be feared."

One gloved hand grasped her wrist gently and lowered it as Erik grimaced and turned away from her. "There are few who share your views on my visage, Christine… you cannot begin to imagine what it's like to live your life shunned, feared, as an outcast of society. It is why remaining a ghost is much more comfortable. Ghosts can be invisible if they want to."

Christine remained silent for a moment, unable to say anything. She actually understood quite well – Regina had never been an overly social person, quite the contrary, she often preferred solitude and her own little world of creativity around her.

"So I am a means of getting all that unseen talent into the light?" she asked finally, but her voice wasn't accusing. It was a simple query. "People ask me who my great tutor is, you know… and they can't seem to accept the answer that it's the Angel of Music without believing it to be a jest."

He laughed mockingly. "I am no angel, Christine. You knew that before, and this only confirms it. But yes, you are the only performer I have ever deemed gifted enough to sing my music."

Christine nodded to herself, gazing at the snow again.

"Christine…" she looked up sharply – Erik had turned to her again. "You must know that I would never hurt you. I would…"

"…rather die?" she finished, smiling weakly, "I don't know if I should trust you to that extent… but you have revealed the one secret you would have surely refused to introduce me to under other circumstances… so I will trust you and take your word for it."

A small feeling of incoming victory entered her mind when she saw, even from afar, that his eyes seemed to light up. Then, as if remembering for the first time that there was a performance on hiatus several floors beneath them, Erik said: "You should go… they will wonder where you are. The show cannot go on without the Prima Donna."

Christine simply hoped that she wouldn't have to wear that gigantic wig, because she didn't fancy brain damage. Come to think of it, that might be what made Carlotta so demented, Christine decided. Too many wigs… repeated brain damage… yes, it was more than possible. She was tempted to start some variation of AIAOY, but the rational part of her decided that it would be far too eager.

Instead, she smiled brilliantly at Erik, rushed towards him one last time, carefully gave him back the mask and, before he could react, quickly kissed him on the cheek, ran back to the door, beaming at him one last time before she shut the door (inwardly laughing merrily that he looked so stupefied as if he was about to faint).

Rushing downstairs, she still wore a big smile as she descended to her dressing room, despite all the damage around her. Changing quickly into Carlotta's pink costume (which, unsurprisingly, looked as stupendous on her as it had been horrid on Carlotta), tied her hair back with a black ribbon she had removed from the newest rose, and (after discovering a way to get out of the room despite the wide crinoline), she returned to the stage, taking over the part of Countess.

Contrary to the other performers, she was now relaxed, smiling and laughing far more easily when she was supposed to. Even the singing turned out far easier than she expected it to. Then again, Il Muto was mostly comedic dialogue and not difficult arias, compared to, say, Hannibal, and Carlotta had already sung some of the harder parts.

After the performance, she wanted to seek out Meg immediately and tell her what happened – but this time, luck hadn't been with her. The first person to reach her was Raoul, who still looked slightly jumpy after what had happened.

"Christine!" his hand grabbed her wrist before she could shut the dressing room door in his face, unfortunately. "Where have you been? I've searched high and low for you! you scared me there…"

"I'm quite alright, Raoul." Christine noted, a bit of her cheerfulness evaporating. "I just needed a bit of time alone… everything's alright." Jesus Christ Superstar was the first thing that came into her mind after she said that, so she almost laughed. She felt like singing it. _Try not to get worried…_

Raoul visibly relaxed. "Thank God. I feared you might have got lost or had an accident yourself… you were brilliant, as usual, Little Lotte."

"Thank you." she said quickly, glancing at the mirror with an apologetic expression, just in case.

After a moment of staring at it, she realized she hadn't listened to a word Raoul had said. "…it would really be better, I think. Christine, are you even listening to me?"

Christine shook her head. "I'm sorry, Raoul, I have a lot on my mind. Could you repeat that? But be brief, please. I promised Meg I'd meet her after the show."

"I said that after this kind of shock, it might be better if you take some time off. You could stay at the family mansion, my brother wouldn't mind, I'm certain."

"Raoul, that is nice of you, but I shall have to refuse."

"At least until the managers sort things out, Christine. This will be dreadful for business, a renown theater like this and a suicide…"

Now Christine was angry. She had expected this… "NO!" she bellowed, not taking any chances. "I wish to stay, Raoul."

"You are in shock, Christine, I understand, but I cannot allow you to stay here if such things are happening…"

"You have no right to allow or not allow me anything!" Christine snapped, "I am my own person and I wish to stay." She almost literally threw him out of the dressing room and shut the door tightly. Since she had no intention of going into her bedroom – therefore she would probably be sleeping here, Christine changed back into her day clothes.

"You did very well, Christine…" she heard a voice resonate from the mirror. Quickly raising her head from the vanity table on where she had laid it to rest, Christine smiled brightly. The soft sounds of music reached her, and she rested her head on the vanity again, her arms folded underneath it. In a matter of minutes, she was asleep.

X X X

Meg was hurrying from the ballet dormitories to Christine's dressing room. After successfully having set up a date with a hot guy and survived the mass panic, she had much to tell her friend. Likewise, she imagined that Christine had been through a lot herself – she had seen Le Fop chasing her somewhere.

The ballet girl only hoped that Christine didn't mess up this crucial part of the story, since it was mostly about her decisions now… and whether three or six months of no plotline were to follow, she wanted them to run smoothly. Hopefully, by the end of La Ball Masque, she would be best friends with Madame Opera Ghost.

At the sound of footsteps, Meg dived behind the nearest object. It was Raoul, she discovered, once again knocking on Christine's door. Meg thought her friend wouldn't want to open – she would have locked the door, anyway, but when Le Fop entered with no problems after receiving no reply, she guessed something was amiss. Moments later, the door opened again, and the Vicomte walked out with a clearly sleeping Christine in his arms.

For a few seconds, Meg was just too stunned to move. This was not supposed to happen! She... she had to stop this! Meg followed him, in an attempt to stop this, whatever was happening. What was she to do? Pretend she was the Phantom? No, too cheesy. Stopping him the normal way could work! He wouldn´t think her insane then!

"Monsieur le Vicomte!" Meg called quickly, running after him. She saw Christine stir in his arms, but the diva didn´t wake. Meg remembered then that while it took Christine a long time to fall asleep, she was a very heavy sleeper. Cursing silently, she chased after him. "Monsieur le Vicomte!"

Raoul stopped, seemed to have heard his name shouted and turned to her.Meg let out a sigh of relief. Finally, she would somehow subtly wake Christine and then Christine would be the one screaming her lungs off with a very loud: "Just what the hell do you think you are doing!" Meg wanted to scream that herself. She could think of quite a few things she should scream out at him, naturally, but at the very same moment...

"Marguerite Giry!" a voice hissed at her and she found herself pulled away by her mother. Meg looked at her angrily. "Where have you been! I was worried sick about you!" Madame Giry hissed and forced her "daughter" look at her. "You could have gotten seriously injured, do you know what a mess the opera house is right now?"

Meg didn´t care. She glanced at Raoul... or rather, at the spot where Raoul had stood a moment ago. Meg felt as if she had been slapped. The idiot left without speaking to her! And she cursed Christine and her heavy sleeping. Even if she would wake up, Christine herself told her she didn´t remember things when she was half-asleep! Dammit! Meg thought.

"Marguerite, I am talking to you!" Madame Giry said threateningly. But Meg rushed to the nearest window. She would shout, she would stop them... but she was too late. The carriage was already at least a two hundred meters away and disappearing fast.She cursed out loud. Naturally Christine wouldn't have anticipated this – even she wouldn't have guessed that Raoul would take Christine away against her will. This was bad… and it would look bad… no idea what good ol´ O.G. would think about this…

"Such behavior!" Madame Giry´s voice brought Meg back to reality, "An hour of extra training for you tomorrow, petite madame! Now go to the dorms!" And she was off.Meg gulped as she returned to the dorms. Somewhere, she knew, a pair of unseen beautiful eyes was narrowing dangerously.

This was going to be a long three months.


	11. Notes a bit differently

**Author's notes:** Quick update, people, I had to get this out of my head. Anyway, wish me luck tomorrow – math test and singing lessons, you know!

**Raoulisafop **– I know, I know­… read on!

**lady kathrin** – here it is!

**Phantom'sJediBandieGirl **– any name is okay… well, the Sunburn of Doom is legendary.

**Unseen-Presence –** No, Erik is too dear to me to get hurt… anyway, graveyard scene is planned out, and… well, I can't tell!

**unseengenius **– here it is, read on! Yes, Raoul is in big trouble!

**Nota Lone** – Yes, indeed. He tried to help… but didn't quite understand.

**Nixieharpist **– El Foppo is cool! Heh, anyway, he will suffer, trust me!

**mrs. malfoy** – Yes, I want to see Voldemort! I love the character, and I adore Ralph!

**Enrinye** – Indeed, indeed, Z.

**Kathy.L** – I will, thank you! Read on!

X X X

**Chapter 11 – Notes a bit differently**

X X X

"Mademoiselle... Mademoiselle, please wake up..."

Christine stirred in her sleep and mumbled something incomprehensible about vacation and no need to go to school. She didn't feel like waking up. She was having a good dream… there was music in that dream… but it was a decent dream, not _that_ kind of good dream. Too much of the ingénue nature had passed to her – she had been considered chaste before, but now…

"Mademoiselle, Monsieur le Vicomte has asked me to wake you – breakfast will be served in a moment."

At the sound of the title, Christine's sleepy eyes jerked open immediately, and she sat up so quickly that she almost collided with the small stubby maid that had been trying to wake her up. She was surrounded by light – the sunlit room seemed to be from a Cinderella-style palace, the white sheets of a queen-sized bed almost glittered. This wasn't the Opera Populaire.

The maid ignored Christine's unease and shock and smiled kindly. "Good morning, Mademoiselle. Please forgive me such a rash wake-up call, but Monsieur le Vicomte asked me to…"

"Where am I?" Christine demanded, ignoring her manners for a moment. She had a bad feeling about this.

"Chateau de Chagny, Mademoiselle." The maid said, aware that the girl had been brought here exhausted or unconscious. After what she had heard about what had happened, she didn't really blame her.

Christine winced as if struck and paled, if that was even possible. She didn't want to believe it, but all seemed to support the maid's words. Her mouth fell slightly open and she struggled to find words. "How-how did I get here?"

"The young Monsieur de Chagny brought you here yesterday. You were asleep – he believed it would be best if you would not be disturbed. After the events at the opera house, I do not blame him."

A wave of white-hot anger rushed through Christine's mind. He… he… the f…! "And-and you are?" Christine asked, trying her best to force calm into her voice. This woman wasn't at fault – she had to save her rage for Le Fop.

The maid gave a little bow. "Ancelin, Mademoiselle. I am one of the maids at the de Chagny mansion – I shall attend to you while you stay here."

Nodding curtly, Christine checked and to her immense relief saw that she was still dressed – if anyone would have tried changing her clothes, she would have killed them mercilessly. She got up immediately and without answering to Ancelin´s words that breakfast was being served, she stormed through the corridors like a very, very angry Grim Creeper would have done, and found the place she had been looking for. Downstairs, Raoul was conversing with some butler, but dismissed him as soon as he saw Christine at the stairs.

The Vicomte was fully dressed, as if it was already late in the afternoon, and seemed to be oblivious to Christine's blank, empty stare. Or perhaps he was simply too far away to notice. Instead of inquiring why she was in a bad mood, he smiled brightly at her, as if it was her birthday.

"Good morning, Christine. I didn't expect you to be up yet – you seemed exhausted yesterday." He said, with genuine brightness. "I would be honored if you would join me for breakfast."

Like a silent ghost and twice as ominous, Christine descended down the stairs slowly, almost menacingly. The joy he was generating was nauseating and only fed her anger. In that very moment, had she had a sword at hand, she wouldn't have hesitated – not to kill, merely to cut off something very, very important. Like his hair… or something far more valuable to him. Or both. She wasn't picky. "Kill Bill" taught her a thing or two about cutting off body parts.

Once she was directly in front of him, Raoul´s smile froze a bit when he saw the expression on her face and her paleness. "Christine, are you ill?" he asked with great concern, and tried to place a hand on her forehead do check if she didn't have a fever.

With one move, she caught him by the wrist and forced him to lower the hand. Still glowering at him, she gave him the look of deepest loathing for a few seconds, then, raising her other hand, she slapped him across his perfect cheek as hard as she could, which was more than enough – his head jerked violently to one side, and an ugly red mark appeared where she had hit him.

A torturer's gleam in her eyes, Christine spoke only just above a whisper. "If you ever… _ever­…_ as much as lay a finger on me without my permission again, I shall gladly fulfill the wishes of the phangirls out there and personally render you incapable of having children, Raoul."

Finally giving him one last look that plainly wished him a painful death, Christine turned on her heel and stalked off to the dining salon.

X X X

The next few months were boring to Meg. Or at least they would have been, if she didn't have the constant feeling of being watched by unseen eyes. well, everyone in the Opera Populaire had always had that particular feeling, but it seemed to have intensified while she was separated from Christine.

Her "date" with Gaston went well – she remembered to give details only from the Leroux!Phantom when he asked about things, and she found that she enjoyed his presence now not only because of his Jason Isaacs looks. He was a pleasant person to talk to, and didn't mind her occasional sarcasm. She could finally be Amanda again for a while.

At the Opera Populaire, things seemed to return to normal. There hadn't been a sight or sound of the Phantom since the now legendary Il Muto premiere night, and all began to be terribly boring. Her only other hobby was her correspondence with Christine – after all, with the absence of emails and phone calls, they had to compensate somehow.

Even the week before the masquerade, she received the usual daily letter, in which Christine explained what she had been doing. Mostly, it involved usual stuff – but she never forgot to ask how things were going and if she had seen Erik.

_Dear Amy,_

_Nothing new here, unfortunately. I've gotten used to the whole "I'm an aristocrat so I'm rich, rich, rich" atmosphere a while ago, but that doesn't mean I like it. I'd much rather be back at the Opera House, even if it would mean enduring Carlotta. I actually miss making fun of her. _

_Raoul is annoyingly sweet as usual, but it has its uses – I have a whole new set of dresses and jewelry. He's been buying me stuff ever since I threatened to remove Vicomte jr. (not that it would be that much of a loss, mind you – after long observations, I can confirm it ;-p ) and I can't say I don't like it. The stuff, I mean._

_Do you have the White Boobzilla outfit ready:-P Just joking – it'll look great on you. I'm counting the days till the masquerade – I'll finally get to get out of here. I like the Chateau, I learned to ride horseback and practiced my martial arts a bit. I hope my singing didn't get choppy from lack of practice – you can guess how Raoul feels about me returning to the opera._

_Makes me want to stick that flashy engagement ring he's been throwing at me for weeks now up his noble backside. Anyhow, I might try to nick some weapons here – I like the gun collection, and it might be useful for Don Juan. They would never even guess that I can fight. By the way, my marksmanship is getting far better, I might try some archery before I return. What can I say, living like a queen has its positive sides._

_Any sign of Erik? Don't answer that – I know there hasn't been. Anyway, I hope he didn't get the wrong idea when Raoul "rescued" me… or we might have a problem. _

_Got to go – I can hear His Foppness coming, we're going to visit some rich snobs in the city._

_Kudos & May the Phorce Be With You!_

_  
Your friend, official Star Wars maniac and the future Madame O.G. (:-)))) )_

_Christine Daaé _

_P.S._

_I'm actually beginning to like the name! I love being able to sign like this. :-D_

After reading the letter, Meg grinned.

_Dearest Regina,_

_God, how these letter beginnings suck:-b Heh. Well, I'm alright, THANKS FOR ASKING. No sign of O.G., as you know without a doubt, though "Maman" seems a bit jumpy, which is unusual, since she and Erik are supposed to be good buddies._

_Anyway, my date with the guy I've been telling you about went well – I'll introduce you at the ball, k? And no, I'm not telling you his name­… yet. I want u to be surprised. :-p Well, it's been rather quiet, so the managers are getting cocky again. Carlotta is as bitchy as ever, Piangi is okay, Reyer is still a tyrant. _

_I congratulate your ideas of exploiting Le Fop's wealth. I could do with new dresses myself. I finally got used to the corsets, but the Boobzilla outfit… I don't have anything better to wear, though! Well, you know me, rebel – runs in the blood, so I guess I have to bring some extreme adrenaline to the party. _

_Speaking of the party, prepared for Red Death? I hope you are… in case he's mad at you, it'll be hard to get out of that one. I can't wait to see him, though – from what you said, he has to be great. _

_The weapons could be handy, try using Le Fop for target practice! I wish I could ride horseback… you'll have to teach me! I practiced my fighting as well, though not as intensively – you have a lot more privacy at that manor, be certain of it. I constantly think someone (coughErikcough) is watching._

_Back to ballet practice for me, I guess… just remember not to accept any kind of ENGAGEMENT ring or anything, you know what'll happen if you do._

_Peace & blood._

_Your not-so-obedient friend and da M.E.G. (mucha excited ghost :-P) _

Meg Giry

_P.S._

_Remember – save the gondola, ride the Phantom!_


	12. Rings and Roses

**Authro´s notes:** Being in rather a hurry, I have no time for replies... and I may stop with them at all in chapters, mostly because of this site´s rules. Never fear, though - I shall reply in my profile, if I can. Anyway, my machine was damaged, sorry for the long time between updates... it won´t happen again, I presume.

X X X

**Chapter 12 - Rings and roses**

X X X X

Christine was nervous.

So nervous, in fact, that she kept pacing back and forth in her room in the de Chagny mansion. For three months, she had out of the Opera Populaire. It had been interesting, since she learned a whole lot of new things, but also pretty bad, because she had a tendency of getting very nervous every evening.

This was the night of the masquerade – the one thing she had been looking forward to the most. She would finally get back to the Opera, get away from Raoul and hopefully force him to abandon the futile attempts to get her to accept the engagement ring. Not that the ring wasn't pretty or that the fortune wasn't tempting… or that he was that bad-looking, either. He was a pretty, well, maybe not good-looking guy, but a cute guy, she had to admit. She had come to understand why some people defended him. Nevertheless, choosing him over Erik was simply unthinkable to her. The wealth and title minus the husband would be fine…

She glanced at her mirror again. she was fully dressed in the pink dress she remembered from the movie. Naturally, she had several roses on her – one in her hair, one stuck behind her belt (of sorts) and maybe another one elsewhere, she didn't know. Meg didn't have the time to write that day, and she was anxious to meet her friend again. she even remembered that Meg wanted to introduce her to a new "find" of hers. That would be interesting.

Having three months time to plan her next move, Christine knew precisely what she would do once le Fantôme de L´Opera would make his personal appearance as the Red Death. Hopefully, it would be suitable – she planned it from every angle, and it seemed full proof. No engagement ring meant no problem, she reasoned. After all, he wouldn't go psycho if she´d behave as if she was overjoyed to see him, which she would be, no question.

Thus far, everything was going fine. Even Raoul´s presence was more bearable when she knew she would soon get away from him. She stayed purely for the sake of Don Juan getting finished properly – if she would have returned earlier, she could have messed up. Plus, only the Queen of England probably had a better wardrobe than her now.

Admiring the dress from every angle – something she rarely did – she deemed herself ready and went downstairs, where a positively gawping Raoul escorted her to the carriage. Overall, Christine was satisfied with how she had handled things. As the Opera Populaire came into view, she decided that she didn't mess anything up and there was little that could go wrong tonight.

Finally, she accepted Raoul´s hand to get out of the carriage, but released it the moment they entered the main hall. There was no idea who might be watching. Raoul seemed to be just about to ask her for a dance, but a brightly white-clad blonde pushed her way through the crowd, beaming.

"Christine!" Meg called happily, beaming and pulling Christine away from Raoul. A moment later, they got lost in the crowd and got some drinks. Meg frowned a bit. "I hate the song. It´s just way too catchy for my taste." She noted, as another chorus of "Masquerade" made contact with their eardrums.

Christine laughed. "After three months, I'm glad to hear even that. Anyway, you kept bragging on about some new find of yours…" she added mischievously. "May I see him?"

"Oh, it´s a very long story… well, a complicated one, anyway." Meg said with a grin. "It was right after that Il Croak incident, Buquet and all, and people were going nuts downstairs. And I got away through the orchestra pit, with the help of… ah, there you are!" she beamed at someone behind Christine.

Once Christine turned, she had to use a lot of willpower not to gawp openly or grin. Yes, she understood why Meg was so giddy. "Pardon the intrusion, ladies. You must be the famous Mademoiselle Christine Daaé, of whom Meg has told me so much?"

Christine smiled. "I don't know about the famous part, but I am Christine, yes, Monsieur."

She had finally gotten used to getting her hand kissed after three months of life with the aristocracy. "Enchanté, Mademoiselle. I am Gaston Leroux, at your service." Her eyes widening a bit, Christine nodded politely. "And I was wondering if the wonderful lady over here would care to dance with me, if you don't mind."

"It is alright." Christine said with a nod, as he gestured towards Meg.

"In a moment." Meg called and pulled Christine away.

"Where did you get him?" Christine hissed, genuinely astonished.

Meg grinned. "Oh, he´s like Nadir, really. Always lurking somewhere around here… anyway, I think he´s a quite good compensation for O.G., no?" and with that, she left her friend standing in the middle of the crowd.

Shaking her head, Christine took another drink and sipped it quietly, carefully avoiding Raoul and rejecting all dance offers, for the time being. Waltz wasn't a problem, but she rather kept observing the scene, laughing occasionally at the more funnier situations or costumes, smiling when some particularly dashing-looking (or seemingly good-looking) men came to ask her for a dance.

"Merci Monsieur, but I cannot." she said when they were persistent, "My escort has yet to arrive, and he would not be pleased to see me dancing with another." Then, they said they understood, but that they would come ask later, if they could.

The party went on, it seemed that nothing could ruin the night. Christine knew better, but she enjoyed the party nonetheless. When the signal came and all lights save one went out, she knew exactly where to look and as Meg rushed towards her, she was already moving towards the staircase, motioning to Meg to stop.

Meg did so, and seconds later, her mother grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away. Another moment later, her eyes nearly fell out; she was staring so much. She had imagined this to be grand and majestic, but this was too much.

On top of the stairs stood the Red Death, the image of glory, glamour, and, above all, total and utter hotness. If the rest of the females in the room weren't terrified and bound by the customs of the 19th century, they would have realized that drooling was in order. Meg and Christine knew this more than well, but were also aware of the fact that it would be utterly weird if they would do it.

"Why so silent, good Messieurs?" he asked with deep amusement, "Did you think that I had left you for good?"

Judging by the looks on the managers´ faces, the answer was yes. Meg almost laughed out loud, but didn't dare, since Madame Giry was nearby.

"Have you missed me, good Messieurs? I have written you an opera! Here I bring the finished score – Don Juan Triumphant!" The drawn rapier only emphasized the point that if they would refuse it, there would be hell to pay. "Fondest greetings to you all. A few instructions just before rehearsals start. Carlotta must be taught to _act_." As he messed with the diva´s feathered hat, Christine was almost choking with suppressed laughter.

"Not her normal trick of strutting round the stage." Piangi moved forward angrily, but the weapon pointed at him made him back off. "Our Don Juan must lose some weight – it's not healthy for a man of Piangi´s age. And my managers must learn that their place is in an _office, not the arts._" Looks of shock, outrage and above all, fear, on their goofy faces, the managers remained silent.

Christine drew a breath and straightened her face. It was her turn. "As for our star… Miss Christine Daaé." The Red Death´s gleaming eyes found her almost unnaturally quickly. Holstering his rapier, he continued to speak, but now seemed to refuse to look at her. "No doubt she'll do her best. It's true, her voice is good. She _knows_, though, should she wish to excel, she has _much _still to learn. If pride would let her return to me – her teacher…"

He got the wrong idea, clearly, when she disappeared, but it was a pleasing fact that the very sight of Christine seemed to disarm him, Meg decided, and continued to watch the scene. Hopefully, Christine knew what to do in this situation.

Christine didn't dare blink and hardly even breathed as she slowly began ascending up the stairs. She felt the gaze of many people directly on her, and it was hard to ignore. Focusing on the Red Death alone wasn't that hard, however, and she tried her best not to look pleased that it was he who was gawping now, and not at all suppressing it.

Stopping one or two stairs beneath him, it seemed a lot harder now that she was almost not breathing than when she was planning this in her head. But a tiny part of her mind that remained rational and wasn't calculating chances of a far more 21st century-ish making things up to him screamed at her to proceed with the plan… the voice was beginning to seriously irritate her.

With a trembling hand (the trembling and star-struck adolescent feelings annoyed her terribly), she removed the pale pink rose from behind her belt and handed it to him, hoping silently that he would get the hint, take it and get the hell out of there before Le Fop would get back. A loud YES! resonated through her mind when he took it and for a brief moment, her hand was in his. Then, like someone had switched the scene to the ALW movie, he turned and returned to the top of the stairs swiftly, bowed slightly to her and disappeared within the flames.

With the exception of Christine and Meg, who was doing a slight victory dance, gasped in shock. Too late did Christine realize that Raoul was back and close… not before he jumped into the pit, anyway. Too late did Meg move to stop her mother from disappearing… not before she turned to see no one standing nearby.

An unnatural silence fell, and Christine uncomfortably realized that all eyes were on her, most of them gawping as if she had arrived in the same fashion as the Red Death. Smiling nervously, she moved to the managers, who seemed like two gawping statues, and crouched to gently pick up the score of Don Juan Triumphant. She lined the music sheets up and looked at the managers.

"I…I shall take this to your office, if I may, Messieurs?" she asked, hoping that the situation would return to normal. Still, the managers just stared, but she was too irritated to interrogate them more. "I´ll put it on one of your desks."

Turning on her heel, Christine moved to walk out of the room, her footsteps echoing loudly. No one stopped her or edged away from her – they just seemed too shocked to do anything. Only when she was gone did the whispering and chatter start, as if little fires had been lit.


	13. Don Juan vs Soap Operas

**Author´s notes:** Continuation, people! And the worst cliffhanger you can ever imagine!

**unseengenius** – the story is mostly centered around Christine and Meg, but I am thinking of putting in a conversation with Madame Giry later on

**mrs. malfoy** – thank you, I have been thinking of that idea for some time, since getting round the ring stuff was hard

**Phantom'sJediBandieGirl** – yes it was! I have the instrumental version of most songs, and it's LTBL!

**Nota Lone** – (shrugs) I thought it was a nice touch. I love the smell of irony in the morning... (Well, that was random:-P

**AngelOfMusic387** – well, I... I... I CAN´T TELL! AAAHHH! I would really, really like to answer the question, but I simply can't.

X X X

**Chapter 13 – Don Juan vs. Soap Operas**

X X X X

After the success at the masquerade, Christine wasn't in a bad mood… but she wasn't in a good one, either. Perhaps it was too much exhibitionism, what she had done. Hopefully it wouldn't jeopardize anything… well, people would be terrified of upsetting her now. That was the one good thing about it.

Finally, she entered the office. The managers´ office was one of the very few places in the Opera Christine didn't have the chance to visit that often, so she was quite happy to get there. It was a nice room, not at all as regal as an office should perhaps be, but at the same time, different from the rest of the building – you could see that it had an administrative function.

With the prized package in her hands, she walked to one of the two desks there and laid the score of Don Juan on it and turned to walk away. She stopped a moment later. Curiosity got the better of her, so she carefully opened the score and began to read it. The music was even wilder, darker and more passionate than she had expected, which was saying something.

She was more concerned, however, once she saw the first lines of her role. Really, she couldn't think of harder phrases. High tones, then low, then high again, switching at the most impossible times. And the lyrics… although she was a 21st century girl, she almost turned bright scarlet. "PonR" wasn't by far all of the, um, passionate part of the role… and she saw only a few lines.

"Too extravagant for your taste, my dear?" a voice softer than silk spoke from behind her suddenly.

Christine would have instinctively slammed the score shut and turned around in surprise, but some part of her remembered the last time she did something like that and the damage it caused her precious foot. Only her head turned to follow the voice to its source, to the red figure standing among the curtains of the panoramic window of the office.

Momentarily, there was a silence, then Christine looked down on the ground. "A bit." She paused, "I didn't mean to leave… Raoul…"

"…proved too eager or too lucky for you to resist in the chaos after the incident." Erik finished, unsmiling, from what Christine could see. "Perfectly understandable." The fact that he continued watching her (she could see the two gleaming eyes perfectly well when black paint surrounded them) as if hoping to catch her at a lie or something that would betray her brought her some unease.

Christine closed the score and put it neatly on the desk. She hated awkward silences like this. Moreover, this wasn't planned! He was supposed to vanish after the "Why o silent?" bit! Fin! End! Nothing else!

"When should I prepare myself for the first rehearsal?" she found herself asking, remembering the insanely difficult songs.

"Are you so certain the Vicomte will voice no protests?"

As if a bomb exploded in Christine, she spat: "I am my own person, not his servant. If you must know, I slapped him so hard he should be red even now. And…" she smiled triumphantly. "I didn't think the Red Death costume goes well with the green."

It was perfectly clear to what she was referring… but another thing seemed to catch Erik´s attention. "How do you know the costume´s name?"

Christine shrugged. "For a red costume with a death´s head as a mask can you only use certain names." She paused for a moment once more. "But I really apologize."

"You cannot to be punished with the sins of another, Christine." For the first time, his voice softened. Seemingly out of nowhere, he whipped out the pink rose she had given him. "This is yours, I believe."

"It was a gift – keep it, if you will."

"Now, now – handing out roses is my job, is it not?" Erik asked idly, and Christine smiled at the mischief in his voice.

Finally stepping out of the near-shadows, he almost seemed to glide towards her, and proceeded to return the rose to its original place. Christine watched, most pleased, that he seemed to have great difficulty even breathing when they were about ten inches between them and he was glancing down upon her figure as he stuck the rose behind her belt.

Once that was done, his hand closed in around hers (it had hung limply at her side – she was also a bit overexcited due to their proximity) and with the utmost gentleness, he brought it to his lips, clearly savoring each moment of contact. Christine felt her face might stay the way it was if she didn't stop smiling, since she wiped the flush/wide-eyes/Danielle Steel´s female character and any other sappy romantic thing from her face and managed a very surprised but kind smile.

A large part of Christine´s mind was screaming at her that the situation was ideal for a kiss. Here. Now. Right NOW! Keeping her head when they were in a dark room, alone, together, was very hard.

Christine moved slightly forward, and satisfied herself with an embrace, laying her head on his chest and gripping his hand tightly. She could feel Erik´s shallow breaths on her hair and the rapid beating of his heart, as if he had run the marathon thrice in a row. Closing her eyes for a moment, she savored the moment of triumph.

"I´ve missed you, Erik." she whispered into his chest.

The triumph was even greater when she felt an arm snake its way around her waist, so shyly that it ought to have been punishable by law and a hand entwining itself with her curly hair.

"I´ve been dead without you…Christine."

X X X

Meg Giry was surrounded by ballet rats.

Each wanted to know about Christine – how come the Phantom claimed to be her teacher? How did they know each other? Did she know about this? Where had Christine gone? What did the rose mean? Why was the Phantom angry with Christine? What does he think now? Is this why Christine became the Prima Donna for a short time? And all the rest of the nonsense the average phangirl crowd would ask.

After bellowing NO! into their faces and giving Gaston a brief apology, Meg slipped away from the crowd and began her search for Christine. She wanted to try to find her mother. Well, she didn't need to guess where she and Raoul were now. Her irritation was intensified by the fact that she missed her chance to push Raoul into the pit. She could only hope that she would get the chance to do something like that later on.

She went to check the ballet dorms and Christine´s dressing room – perhaps she had retired there after delivering the script. But she wasn't there. Meg frowned. What kept her? Was she still in the manager´s office? Maybe she was keener to avoid the ballet rats than Meg was… with certainty, she moved to find the managers´ office.

The corridors seemed unnaturally quiet. She heard nothing as she found the room, but then, it was almost as if she heard Christine´s voice… singing? Well, maybe. She couldn't distinguish the words. Nevertheless, she confidently opened the door to the manager´s office.

"I´ve been looking all over for you, Chris-" she trailed off immediately at the sight in front of her and spoke the last syllable in somewhat of a trance. "-tine…"

In front of her, hastily raising her head, Christine paled a bit and her companion swiftly released her from his embrace.

A very awkward silence followed.


	14. Don Juan Interrupted

**Author's notes:** Mwahahahahahaha…. Anyway, L.T. sent me an email about the review, I won't post it here, but I'll reply to it soon, so if you're still reading this, expect a reply. And don't worry, I dislike OMG HES SO HOT GERIK IS MINE 4EVA fangirls as well... I´m just reposting the reply so I can delete that "chapter".

**Lindseys Trachea (whatakick) - **_While I value the opinions of all reviewers, even the negative ones, yours caught my eye in such a fashion that I thought it deserved its own document for a proper reply. I don´t know if you´ll ever read this, considering your opinion of the story, but still, here it is, for all others to see._

_I read some of your reviews to other stories, just to check if your language was similar to the one you used in the review I received. It was. You´re free to say what you want about the story - go ahead. Be ashamed, if you find it necessary. If you wish to truly know how I became a phan, here you go: three years ago, I received the Leroux book from my parents for my birthday. I read it, liked it immediately, and researched the internet for it for a while. I discovered the musical and loved it instantly, later on managed to read Susan Kay´s masterpiece. The ALW 2004 movie, no matter how good or bad it was, didn´t impress me as much as the whole story and while I like Gerard Butler in general, I am fully aware of the obvious fact that the role of the Phantom (or Erik, whatever you will) was not meant for him, for various reasons, the greatest being his lack of vocal training and also his physical appearance, which doesn´t even come close to the descriptions of Erik._

_"Annoying phangirls", indeed. I really don´t comprehend the story. After all, who comprehends it better than you? Aren´t you Leroux reincarnated, by any chance? Or are you channeling Susan Kay´s thoughts? I´m not mentioning ALW, however, since he was the one who thought GB was right for the role._

_About your analysis of that particular sentence - do you understand the meaning of the word "sarcasm"? I believe you should, since you claim to have read Kay. I can only speak for myself, but I never thought Christine stupid for chosing Raoul. However, this fanfic concerns the ALW 2004 movie, NOT the Leroux or Kay book, or the ALW stage musical, and that is the reason why the characters say and think these things. I mentioned it there - they were watching the movie, not reading the book._

_Unfortunately, I have not seen the 1925 silent movie, but I have seen photos of Lon Chaney as Erik... and my thoughts on Erik remain the same. Not all people are as shallow as you think. Speaking of "stupid phangirls"... you yourself spell the word with a ph instead of a f. How do you feel now?_

_I trust you are intelligent enough to have noticed the category in which this story is? If not, never fear, I´ll enlighten you. "Humor", it´s called. You see, that means the story is intended to make people laugh, it´s not angst. And "fanfiction", do you know what that means? Stories written by fans, because they feel like writing something about a story they like._

_You read the summary of the story, you knew what it was going to be about. But you still read it! That is either completely illogical or astonishingly stupid. And still you bother to review, just to flame the story._

_You´re obsessed, my dear. You flame other people´s works simply because you believe the way you understand Phantom is the only true way to understand Phantom. Your review only made me feel sorry for you... but I don´t feel the need to flame your work. I have read it, liked bits, thought parts were alright and disliked other parts. But your silly attempt to insult me is most pitiful._

_The story remains on this site, it will be continued, and you can insult it all you want... you´re only insulting yourself. People like you make me lose faith in the human race._

_To summarize my ramble, make it a bit more vulgar and give you the reply you would expect a "stupid phangirl" to give you: go finish your own crap, idiotic bitch. You make me sick._

**timounes-island** – thank you very much! Here you go, read on!

**krillball6**** –** Whoa... big-time praise! Thanks a lot!

**sashik**** –** I try, thanx

**scorpion's muse** – thank you!

**mrs. Malfoy** – (does the victory dance)

**Sargneagelchen **– it's okay! As long as you review, the length is inconsequent!

**Willyrka**** –** (gives you the Nobel Prize for Peace Between Phans)

**Unseengenius** – Here you go!

**onelastchance**– here it is!

**BrokenFate**– thanks so much, even though i don't try to make Erik cute... i try to make him IC. Read on!

**raoulisafop** – Here it is!

**Phantom'sJediBandieGir**l – it's okay, i just didn't have that much time

**Kathy.L** – thanks!

**Enrinye** – hehe, you shouldn't be complaining, Z. you are the only one who knew what was going to happen in the next chapter!

**Nota Lone** – I hate soap operas...well i laugh insanely when someone watches them, but otherwise... anyway, that´s how i came up with the title!

**AngelOfMusic387** – no kiss... yet. Read on!

X X X

**Chapter 14 – Don Juan Interrupted**

X X X X

Meg was staring.

She was fully aware of the fact and didn't care the least. She had enough trouble trying to stop herself from breathing with her mouth opened and tongue stuck out, like a dog that had just seen a particularly juicy piece of steak. Then the sight of Christine giving her the infamous death glare came into view, and she returned to reality somewhat. She had to behave... for now, at least. The last thing she wanted to do was jeopardize their schemes, but it was hard to be within six feet of le Fantôme de L´Opera, dressed as La Mort Rouge, and not want to squeal and tackle him.

Still, she was trying her best, not only because of the scheme – if she would have tackled him, he would have thought her insane, no question. And anyway, she remembered the answer to the question that had come to her mind: Gaston? Gaston who?

Christine bit her lip for a moment, glancing from Meg to Erik. This was a bad interruption – things were going too smoothly! And now… well, she would have time to kill Meg later on. Well, maybe not kill… maybe just torture her a teeny tiny bit. Maybe not that much of a tiny bit.

For now, she gritted her teeth, forced the angry expression and an evil death glare worthy of O.G. off her face, and proceeded to do the inevitable. "Um, Erik… this is Meg Giry, my best friend."

As if someone started time again, Erik shifted his gaze to Christine and apparently recognized her feeble attempt to save the situation somehow, and nodded slightly before returning his attention to Meg. "Your mother has helped me throughout the years, Mademoiselle." With more indifferent politeness than when he had done so with Christine, he took Meg´s hand, which she had automatically outstretched, now used to this kind of greeting, brought it to his lips, but barely even touched her.

Meg thought she was going to swoon, which was saying something, since she wasn't one to be easily turned into a psycho phangirl. Well, the phangirl part, anyway. Still, she became quite aware of the fact that her dress was low-cut enough to show off pretty much most of her cleavage, which was an advantage since Erik was slightly bowed, and a disadvantage, since Christine was looking at her like a queen would at the lowliest thief who attempted in vain to steal her crown right from her head.

"Meg… I don't think you have met Erik." She thought she might add "my teacher" to that sentence, but chose not to. After all, that embrace was far from teacher-student.

Meg regained the power of speech… somewhat. "I… it's a pleasure, Monsieur."

"I shall leave you to your debate. Christine… as usual, you know when and where." Erik noted, quickly returning his attention to Christine who (and Meg envied that) was completely relaxed and calm now and nodded with a genuine smile. "Mademoiselle." He nodded to Meg, then turned and almost seemed to vanish into thin air.

Christine exhaled slowly and, without looking at Meg, who was still staring in awe, she said in a dangerous whisper, not unlike the one she had spoken in to Raoul months ago, but a bit gentler, since this wasn't entirely Meg´s fault. "You're lucky he didn't Punjab you on the spot, Amy. It took me about five minutes to calm him and assure him that I didn't mean to leave. In case you didn't notice, he was in a foul mood tonight."

But Meg remained awed and gawping, turning her protuberant eyes to Christine. "You… you're calm!"

Christine looked at her and frowned. "Yes… and?"

"You…you can get used to seeing someone so hot all the time?" After what seemed ages to her, Christine laughed merrily, but Meg grinned and posed another question, to which she really wanted an answer. "And speaking of hotness… what were you guys doing here before I came, hmm?" she asked with a smirk.

Christine almost blushed, but she was used to this kind of behavior from Meg. "Well, if you wouldn't have poked your nose into the room, I could have perhaps gone further! But no, we weren't snogging or anything."

"Damn!" Christine laughed again.

X X X

Fortunately for her, Christine wasn't required during "Notes", which was fine with her, or else she would have torn Carlotta's head off. The diva claimed that Christine didn't have the voice to play Aminta straight into her face, which resulted in Christine singing "No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy; no dreams within her heart but dreams of love!" straight into her face at the top of her voice… the managers actually applauded her and this time, they didn't stop even when Carlotta glared at them.

Meg, overjoyed, got a note herself, telling her that Christine had probably told her some things, but probably also that she was to keep things quiet, and that if she was really a friend, she would do so. No threat… yet. In return, it seemed, Meg got to be the Prima Ballerina of the show, which both annoyed and excited her, since she was playing a "gypsy courtesan", as the script said, but Meg didn't complain – she knew that she has a bigger part than Carlotta, thus she was satisfied.

Raoul, who most unfortunately survived, kept almost stalking Christine and both girls seriously thought they'd crack soon and kick him in the crotch if he wouldn't stop. Everyone seemed to either fear or respect Christine now far more than before, almost as if Erik was at her side at all times.

Madame Giry called Christine to her own rooms in the Opera one day, to discuss the obvious – Erik. After a lengthy conversation that involved Madame Giry telling Christine Erik's backstory, Christine filling Giry in about the events from her point of view and debates about Don Juan Triumphant, Christine left, reasonably pleased with herself, since Giry believed her and thanked her for giving Erik more than any other person had before. Cliché, but it was from the heart and sincere, so Christine was happy.

Meanwhile, Meg kept singing Don Juan loudly right behind Christine whenever someone passed them in the corridors, laughing when they were terrified.


	15. Lookalikes and lyric changes

**Author´s notes**: People, I cannot risk replying to you… ff. net rules, you know. Anyway, thank you for your wonderful reviews. If you want replies, I´ll have to email you.

X X X

**Chapter 15 – Look-alikes and lyric changes**

X X X X

Meg was in a good mood, whistling Don Juan once more. All was going well… well, except the fact that at last, Gaston managed to corner her and question her about all she knew. Apparently, he was interested in this whole affair… for what reason, only God, Christine and Meg knew.

"You must know something, Meg." He insisted. "You are her best friend!" he added when she remained tight-lipped.

But by then, Meg was angry with him. Jason Isaacs look-alikes be damned! She should have gone for the original! "Yes, I am her best friend! Maybe you should consider courting _her_ if you want answers to your questions! But I wouldn't, if I were you… you´d get pujabbed for sure!"

And she stalked off. He apologized to her later on, insisting that he didn't mean to insult her or hurt her. Meg forgave him, knowing that would heighten her chances of getting closer to him… and controlling him better. He was cute, but he could mess with things.

Meanwhile, Christine had slammed her door in a desperate Raoul´s face and slept in the ballet dorms alone, since no ballerina wanted to sleep in the same room as her. Except for Meg, and she was busy - surrounded by the ballet rats, she was being interrogated instead of Christine, who they didn't dare approach.

The next day, Christine decided it was time to make a routine journey to the cemetery. It was Sunday, after all, and she didn't have lessons until the evening. After she woke up, she immediately had a laugh when she found her mourning dress.

"Yep, boobtastic it is." She noted, observing the low-cut bodice. In the future, she wouldn't have dared to put this on, but in the past, a bit of futuristic attire was needed.

She slipped past Raoul, who was snoring so loud it might wake the dead, and immediately paid the elderly driver the sufficient price for the journey. When she returned to the carriage with the flowers she had gone to fetch, she almost burst out laughing right then and there. The dark cloak of the "mysterious driver" was so obvious, she would have to be blind not to notice it.

Nevertheless, she tried to hold back laughter as she asked him to take her to her father´s grave, her giggles remaining silent. She wanted the Wandering Child scene… it was romantic, in her opinion. Anyway, she tried hard to keep a straight face as they rode to the Perros cemetery and left the carriage with a wicked grin on her face.

Remembering that it would look weird to start laughing on a graveyard, she began singing Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again. Funny blooper scenes played in her head, but she resisted the temptation to laugh. Finally, she arrived at the mausoleum and sat down on the stairs, waiting for her cue. And she didn't have to wait for long.

_Wandering child_

_So lost, so helpless_

_Yearning for my guidance…_

Christine fought a predatory grin like never before.

_Angel, is that you?_

_Or do I dream?_

_Please tell me if you´re here_

She was prepared – she invented the lyrics she had to change long ago, during those first weeks with Raoul.

_Have you forgotten your Angel…?_

_Hell, no! _Christine thought and continued with the normal lyrics.

_Angel, oh, speak!  
What endless longings_

_Echo in this whisper?_

The wind itself seemed to carry his reply to her.

_Too long you´ve wandered in winter…_

_Far from my fathering gaze…_

_And another change. _Christine thought

_My heart never beats against you…_

_Fitting. _Christine decided.

_Don't resist!_

_How can I? _Christine thought to herself, thinking that the world was suddenly very, very warm, though it was winter.

_And my/your soul obeys!_

_Angel of Music!_

_I come to you / Come to me now!  
Embracing true beauty/ To embrace true beauty!  
Angel of Music!  
My protector / Do not shun me!  
Come to me, strange Angel!_

And then, Christine heard the familiar calling of:

_I am your Angel of Music…_

_Come to me, Angel of Music…_

The mausoleum doors were opened, the light inside was lit, and Christine was doing all she could to stop herself from running through that doors and getting to the snogging that had been denied to her before, thanks to Meg´s timely arrival. Perhaps she could get to do more, even…

"No! Christine, wait!" she turned sharply, just to see Raoul arrive, armed and ready. Christine rolled her eyes and quickly became angry.

"Raoul! What are you-?" she didn't get to finish the question – he pushed her out of the way, weapon drawn.

"Whatever you may believe, this man, this thing, is not your father!" And the idiot rushed into the mausoleum himself.

If Christine hadn't been expecting it, she would probably have had a heart attack when Erik dropped from the roof and appeared suddenly. Nevertheless, she took a step back as the swordfight, the infamous part of the movie, began.

Christine just watched it. It was as the fanfic writers had so often written in their parodies: Clash! Whoosh! But it was very cool to watch, and even Raoul managed some good moves. Christine, while no one but her and Meg knew, was a major martial arts fan. She adored swords above all else, from katanas to lightsabers.

She had played enough Star Wars games to know that these two knew their stuff. She almost cheered like one would at a hockey game when Raoul got his arm sliced… and quickly rushed to the scene when he knocked Erik´s rapier out of his hand, probably ready to deliver the final blow.

The weapon landed almost at her feet… and, boldly, Christine picked it up. She was mad now. And you should never make a professional Jedi Knight RPer mad. She approached Raoul from behind quickly and yelled: "Raoul, no!"

But just as he turned around, when she was supposed to say "No. Not like this." she whipped out the rapier, aimed and struck his forehead with the end of the rapier´s handle – the skull – with all her strength. It was possible that he saw stars for a moment, because even in her new ballerina body, Christine knew how to beat people up quite effectively, and then, he collapsed, unconscious. The skull left a rather nasty mark on his forehead… a skull-shaped red mark, in fact.

Panting slightly, Christine looked at the unconscious Vicomte victoriously, then felt eyes on her and her gaze moved to Erik, who was still on his back, and was seriously gawping at her. Christine frowned. "What? You don't live as a ballet rat without learning how to refuse overeager suitors."

Her eyes softened when he chuckled quietly – that actually sent shivers down her spine. She lowered the rapier and walked to him, extending a hand to help him stand up. He picked himself up without help, however, so she was left standing there and quite awkwardly lowered the hand… before she could do so, he took it, pulled her closer and smiled.

"Never awaken the wrath of an angel, that is what we must learn from this."

Christine laughed finally. Things were going better than she expected. "Yes, well, I didn't want him to mess with things today. Especially since you had taken the trouble to give me a ride here and prepare all this…"

"How did you know it was me?" Erik asked with a frown.

Christine laughed. "Erik, you are a genius in many fields… but mistaking a small, old, rather chubby driver for a tall, dark, graceful man in a black cloak is difficult… even for ingénues." She smiled mischievously. "And just what were you planning us to be doing after I would walk into that mausoleum?" she asked idly.

Erik smiled, but didn't reply. "Since there is nothing more for us here, whould you care to accompany me for a meal, Mademoiselle Daaé?"

"Certainly."


	16. The Date of No Return

**Author´s notes**: From your reviews, I get the feeling you enjoyed the last chapter… thanks for that! I loved writing it. And here you have the long-awaited date! Be happy, guys… they´re definitely going to get some action soon! And some dialogue between Meg and Christine now... plus Erik´s reaction to the stockings!

And Nota Lone – the score is appropriate. Very appropriate

Anyway, a reply just to PersonageoftheUnderverse – um, I´m not sure what you meant to say, because you said: "Start, please." with the plural form of "you" in the "please". I take it you meant "Continue, please". Not to lecture you, but continue is continuez and the please… well, I don't know enough French to be able to explain that ;-P

And Z. – close enough to MotN. :-))))))

X X X

**Chapter 16 – the Date of No Return**

X X X X

Riding in the carriage back to the Opera was slightly more cheerful than the ride to the cemetery, for various reasons, the primary being that Christine was sitting in the front this time, alongside Erik, and even though they weren't talking just yet, she could tell he was quite pleased with how the situation ended.

Still, what they were supposed to have been doing in the mausoleum was also an attractive prospect.

In the end, they returned to the lair, leaving the carriage and horses exactly where they found it, virtually untouched. Christine only went to her room for a moment to change into something less black – despite the fact that a) she liked the color, b) they would now be in harmony when it came to colors and c) in this dress, she could rival Meg´s masquerade outfit in the cleavage wars, and for once, it would be an advantage.

Nevertheless, even the modern part of her was modest, and she didn't want to appear overeager or desperate. She was Christine – she had time. Besides, in these archaic days, it was up to him to make the first move. She had to wait until an open declaration of love before she could come up with more than an embrace… though even that was good for now.

Eventually, searching her wardrobe for something pleasant enough, she went for a light blue dress that went well with her hair, with some nice flowery embroidery… forget-me-nots, probably. She tied some of her hair back with the nearest black ribbon, put on a pleasant smile and descended into the lair.

Erik was waiting for her just down the corridor, though she pretty much knew her way by now. Still, she smiled. He was always very polite… UNLIKE Raoul, so unlike Raoul. Perhaps that was the reason she liked him much, much more than the fop.

Once they got out of the boat, Christine found everything prepared for her arrival, so prepared that Erik might have been expecting the royal families of the world to arrive with her. As a perfectionist herself, she appreciated that very much.

They sat down – Christine felt like in a high-class restaurant – and she began to eat the rich meal Erik laid in front of her. It was quite exotic, but she could feel that the ingredients weren't unfamiliar to her. She ate slowly, remembering that her mom always said that the French eat for hours, simply enjoying the food.

After a minute, she looked up, seeing that Erik was watching her intensely, but he hadn't even touched any of the food. Now either that was because he was too anxious about the whole situation or because he was truly as anorectic as some people described him.

"You aren't going to eat, Erik?" Christine asked.

He shook his head a bit. "I scarcely eat, Christine."

Christine decided that further questions were unnecessary and uncalled for. "That´s too bad, because it´s delicious."

"Thank you, my dear. I wasn't certain if Asian food would be to your liking." He said with a slight smile. Christine smiled as well and resumed eating, but also decided that she shouldn't simply abandon the conversation. She was rid of the need to be the one to start when Erik said: "Warriors do need their strength, however."

She nearly laughed, but compromised with raising an eyebrow in amusement. "Warriors?"

"Indeed, that display at Perros puts Joan d´Arc to shame."

"I hope you don't mind me borrowing your weapon at the time." Christine noted with a slight blush. She looked back into her plate, because if she looked at him again, she was certain tomatoes would be colorless compared to her.

"It was quite useless to me at the time, so I´d say I don't mind." He paused for a moment, observing her still. "I admit that your quick thinking is very impressive, Christine."

"Thank you, Erik." she said quietly. She didn't really want to discuss the thrilling feeling of having avenged the Phantom community somewhat with that one blow.

She ate quicker than she expected and left some food on her plate, just as she remembered again her mom said was a custom that showed that you liked the food. Smiling, Christine asked: "Are we going to practice Don Juan today?"

"If you are ready, we can practice even now." Erik said, motioning to the music room. Christine stood up and attempted to help him with putting the food away and collecting the cutlery, but the half-thankful, half-amused look he gave her signaled that she was to leave it and go to the music room. With a defeated sigh, she proceeded there.

Erik arrived only minutes later, holding out a pair of stockings to her. Christine felt herself flush as he said: "I believe these are yours." She shrugged innocently, explained that she must have been uncomfortable in her sleep and had kicked them off by accident. Nevertheless, she took them.

She wasn't sure if he believed her or if the faint glitter in his eyes was to be trusted, but almost without even looking at her again, he proceeded to the organ. Bracing herself for a hard lesson and remembering all she knew about singing, Christine opened her mouth and began with the breathing exercises. Majors and minors followed, several arias from other operas she didn't even know she knew and then, finally, Erik seemed to produce the score of Don Juan from nowhere.

It was much harder than she expected, and by the time she got past one aria, she felt tired. Not as much from singing as by avoiding even looking at him, because she was aware what would happen afterwards. Even her willpower wasn't that strong.

"Point of No Return." Erik announced shortly afterwards, and Christine gritted her teeth. She sang the song the best she could, constantly reminding herself that she was not supposed to be focusing on ideas about the two of them plus the swan/peacock/whatever bed in the same thought.

At least he wasn't going to sing with her.

"You aren't being passionate enough, Christine!" she was reminded that for about the zillionth time. She drew a breath. Alright, it was time to focus on precisely those fantasies.

She was pushing her luck, she knew, but she had to try it, in order not to faint on-stage when they would be performing this. After the first line of the song, she turned and looked directly into his eyes. She faintly heard a change in her high soprano, a change that she both liked and feared a bit.

However, that was really nothing compared to the change she noticed in Erik´s eyes, which now signaled great passion, nearly uncontrolled lust, and, clouded by these, but still present, pure love.

_Past the point of no return_

_no going back now_

_our passion-play has now, at last, begun_

_Past all thought of right or wrong_

_one final question:_

_how long should we two wait, before we're one?_

In the corner of her mind, a thought came to her – Amanda would be very proud of her. The thought made her laugh mentally and brought a smile to her face, a smile that morphed into something dark when she continued to sing.

_When will the blood begin to race_

_the sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames, at last, consume us?_

Christine´s mind was screaming at her that she has to control herself. It was hard, especially since she was constantly looking at Erik, giving all the passion from the phangirl phantasies she could muster into her voice and really eager to make those phantasies a reality.

_Past the point of no return…_

_the final threshold -_

_the bridge is crossed_

_so stand and watch it burn_

_We've passed the point of no return..._

Her voice faded away into nothingness… the only thing that did, anyway. Christine had to admire his willpower in this situation – any guy she knew in the 21st century would probably react quite wildly. This must have had a similar effect on him as if she would have jumped into the bed herself and claimed that she wanted him immediately.

Erik looked away from her, glanced at the ground for a moment and gripped the edge of the organ so tightly, it was surprising it didn't crack. Christine herself was panting a bit, partially because it was a tough song, but mostly because she was now fighting the fantasies again. And she was having a hard time.

"Erik?" she asked in a low voice she had never heard escape her mouth. "What is wrong?"

"Christine." He closed his eyes almost forcefully. "Go."

"What?"

"Go. Now." Erik repeated, his grip tightening.

Christine took a step back. She was positively sure that if she would stay, those fantasies would become reality… but probably not in the way she imagined them. Gathering up her skirts and ignoring any ladylike manners, she sprinted to the boat and seized the pole, rowing herself to the other side of the lake.

X X X

When Christine came to watch ballet practice, since she wanted to wait for Meg, she witnessed a furious argument. Meg liked her costume, despite its abnormal cleavage exposure, and Madame Giry was yelling at her. In the end, Meg said that it was in the instructions, so Madame Giry stalked off, giving Christine only a gruff greeting before vanishing.

Meg beamed and hopped on the spot for a moment before she bounced to Christine. "I´m beginning to like Don Juan! The dress is good, and with the character I´m playing, who´s going to wonder why I´m wearing it?"

Christine laughed. "You ain´t showing nothing we haven't seen at the masquerade."

"True." She then remembered. "So how was WYWSHA?" When Christine explained what had happened at the graveyard, she burst into a fit of hysterical laughter and nearly doubled over. "Wonderful!" she congratulated her friend. Once she finished with what had happened later, Meg grinned. "Ooh, someone´s getting horny!"

Christine rolled her eyes. "As if you wouldn't be."

"Not you, him!" Meg said with a shark-like smile. "Excellent!"

"Minus the fact that he practically threw me off the premises." Christine added.

"Well, he´s a gentleman! Not like that idiot Leroux." Meg muttered darkly.

"Speaking of him, what about you and him?" Christine inquired with a smirk.

Meg waved her hand, dismissing that. "No-go. I didn't even get as far as you did with the hugging. You should know that he´s getting quite interested in you."

"Me?" Christine repeated, astonished.

"Yep, O.G. business-wise, of course. Still, I might tighten his leash a bit. Well, I did already." Meg grinned, "But it never hurts to remind him who´s boss."

After laughing, Christine asked: "So, we need to discuss strategy for PonR."

"Not here and not now, Chris." Meg said, "No idea who might be listening in. besides, you need to play the ingénue, so you have to have no idea why he looked like he would like to rip your clothes off and make wild, passionate love to you."

"The naivety of ingénues knows no borders." Christine said, shaking her head.


	17. Notes 2 or How to cross bridges

Author´s notes: Meg gets some action this time, people! Christine is off to kick more Fop butt! Title refers to PonR.

P.S. Nota Lone – Erik scores bigtime in this one!

X X X

**Chapter 17 – Notes 2 or how to cross bridges**

X X X

Meg was happy.

Only hours after their last meeting, Christine pulled her into a broom shed – there, she reasoned, even Erik wouldn't think of putting a trapdoor - to discuss tactics for PonR. The night of the premiere was nearing itself and both of them knew well that the "story" was coming to an end – sadly, because it was much fun for both of them.

And, besides that, Christine had fulfilled her promise – she nicked two completely ordinary pistols from the de Chagny estate and the sharpest knife from their kitchen she could find.

"I´m no good with firearms, since I don't like them much." Christine had said, handing Meg the guns. "And you´ll be in a better position to shoot someone. Besides, I won´t have the time to aim and everyone will be watching me. And it´s easier to hide a dagger." She added, thinking of her Aminta costume.

She had left half an hour ago to see if Erik decided it was… "safe" to talk to her again and left Meg to practice her ballet. Thus far, only La Sorelli matched her skills, partially because Meg was a perfectionist, partially because she had skills from her previous "incarnation", but mostly because Meg was a fan-… well, phanatic when it came to Don Juan.

Practicing her pirouettes, she stumbled and almost hit a wall when she heard someone calling her name quietly, particularly when she noticed that particular someone in the doorway. "Meg?" Leroux asked again, with an expression of anxiety that made Meg glad she was standing in a ballet pose and thus she would probably hurt herself if she would try to tackle him.

Instead of doing so, she lowered herself to her normal height and, blinking a bit, she managed a surprised face. "Gaston?" she really disliked the name. She would really have to ask him if she could call him Sebastian later on… now that was a name that was ideal. "What are you doing here?"

Truth to be told, Meg would prefer if he would really be "doing something". Their "relationship" seemed to be stagnating… at least, compared to the rapidly evolving EC relationship she was witnessing.

He slowly stepped into the room, making Meg want to scream with rage. She was getting tired of this. Unlike the rest of the current world, she wasn't much for this 19th century courting waiting for the guy to tell you they love you stuff… it felt like a major restriction and that equaled as bad.

"I just never got to wish you good luck with your rehearsals." he noted. And it was the truth. Still, he seemed to be too concerned with the fact she might stalk off again if he said something wrong.

Meg exhaled. "Look, I know I probably overreacted a bit… but…" she sighed. _How to say this in a proper 19th century way? Hmm…_ "Sometimes… I get the thought that…" _Come on, come on, think!_

"That what, Meg?" Leroux encouraged her.

_Ah-HA! Got it! _"That you were simply bored and thought that a ballerina like me…"

"Don't even think that, Meg." Leroux interrupted her quickly, with a serious expression on his face. Walking up towards her (Meg was celebrating inwardly) he took both of her hands and squeezed them tightly. "Never assume that you were a pastime or a means of getting information."

Meg attempted to conceal her eager victorious grin with a pleased and sincere smile, but apparently, Leroux either couldn't tell the difference or was satisfied with any good reaction he got, since he didn't ask what was happening and smiled pleasantly as well.

"Well, that _is_ a load off my mind." Meg breathed, and, to encourage some more "action" she quickly kissed him on the cheek, seizing her chance. "You are officially forgiven."

It was a gamble, but it paid off. Surprise quickly vanished from his face and he really took it as a signal that he was free to kiss her – which he did, naturally… and thus Meg´s mind was full of celebrations and only one word described her mood: YAY! To avoid mushy lovey-dovey descriptions, let us say that all the soap opera kissing scenes paled in comparison… at least, from Meg´s point of view.

When it was over, Meg thought she was going to faint. Sure, she had had various fantasies about kissing Jason Isaacs (and more), but the real thing was way beyond that. She didn't really know if she would be able to say anything – or, at least, anything that made sense, anyway.

"Thank you." She heard him say, but didn't reply… not verbally. Instead, she kissed him this time, leaving the ballet to her insides.

X X X

Christine wasn't happy.

Ever since that day in the lair, nothing had happened… for almost a whole day! It was torturous, really. She didn't know if she could return down there, or if she should just play the ingénue, as Meg suggested, or ignore everything. She herself had been a bit shaken, but once away from the candles, the bed and Erik, she had regained her sanity. Still, it was a close one.

She came to her dressing room, more to check if Erik was going to talk to her now than anything else, but while she was there, she wanted to see if her costume was ready yet. The Aminta costume was something she was looking forward to. At last, the exposure of cleavage would have a purpose. Anyway, she wanted to see the infamous "sleeves" for herself.

Walking in, she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Even after closing the door, no ethereal, booming, sexy voice sounded through her dressing room. Sighing a bit, she checked her costume. It was still missing a bit of the skirt, but she knew she would have to try it on later. Nothing strange.

Only when she glanced at the vanity table did she notice something more interesting. A red rose with a black ribbon tied to it… and, underneath it, a neatly folded note, clearly written in red ink which she could see even now.

Christine frowned. Since when did Erik send her notes? Was he too shy to simply talk to her? Well… she would probably be. Goodness only knew what talking about things like that with him would do to her. Since he probably viewed her as gorgeous as she viewed him, though, she came to the conclusion that he thought this would be better.

Putting the rose aside, she unfolded the note and read the message.

_Dearest Christine,_

_I apologize immensely for the incident earlier today – it was not your fault, so do not worry about anything. You were as stunning as ever, my dear, and I am most pleased with your progress thus far. Adding emotion into your singing has really made you the actress as well._

_If you wish, we may continue tomorrow as usual – the finale of the second act. A word of advice – dress comfortably, or loosen up the corset, if you feel it is necessary to wear it. It restricts your breathing, and you truly have no need to make yourself appear slimmer through such drastic means. _

_Again, my deepest apologies for sending you away so rashly. Please leave me a note here, I shall collect it later on. You are hereby ordered to relax and gather your strength. You shall need it._

_Your friend_

_Erik_

Christine began to smile as she read the letter. She could see the moment where he had hesitated, unsure whether to write "Love" or "Sincerely yours" or anything like that… she almost laughed. He had nothing to apologize for – she should have apologized for pushing him so far. Then she noticed there was a P.S.

_P.S. I would talk to your Vicomte friend about his latest plan to capture me. You are bound to be amused._

It was then that Christine remembered. The idiot was going to do that big "We have all been blind" scene!

_Grr…_

Amused nevertheless, she quickly scribbled the reply, put it on the table, sniffed the rose for a moment and a minute later, she left her head in the clouds, her feet on the way to find Raoul, her mind searching for words to yell at him.

The reply, as Erik saw approximately two minutes later, after being certain she wasn't returning – he truly watched her wherever she went, with the exception of broom closets – read:

_Dear Erik,_

_I am not angry with you in the least. I was simply afraid you might be angry with me… nevertheless, moving on, I shall try to follow those instructions – the flattery certainly didn't help, since I obey nonetheless, but it managed to make me smile. _

_I shall prepare myself for the lesson – I want to live up to your expectations when I sing. About the dress – I shall try. After all, the corset isn't comfortable and I am not going to a fashion show or something. I will do my best to find something suitable._

_As usual, you are the ever-helpful Angel of Music. And yes, I smile as I write this… if you do not see me anyway, that is. Thank you again._

_Yours_

_Christine_

_P.S. _

_I hereby make it my business to castrate Monsieur le Vicomte._


	18. Say You'll Go Away

Author´s notes: I actually pity Raoul in this one... well, anyway, Erik scores in the next chapter! And hunting4max - Enrinye liked the name. Originally, it wasn´t supposed to be Leroux, just a random violinist. But while searching for a French surname, I came across the name Gaston... and the rest is, well, history :-) Beware: Cliffhanger!

X X X

**Chapter 18 – Say You´ll Go Away (that´s all I ask of you)**

X X X X

Christine was sitting in the chapel, alone.

She was mad. Mad because she had searched the whole Opera Populaire for Raoul, but that damned Fop seemed to have some way of avoiding her whenever she needed to find him and finding her whenever she wanted nothing more than cut his precious hair off.

Currently, she was trying to relax and calm herself somewhat, hoping that Erik got her note. Fortunately, her theory that if she couldn't find the Fop, the Fop would come to her, proved correct. Minutes after she decided that she would punish him by being a bit more… passionate, yes, that was the right word, during Don Juan, he appeared at the door, looking determined.

"Christine, there you are. I´ve been wanting to have a word with you." He said, walking in, about to sit down next to her when Christine jumped to her feet, her face very cold.

"I would assume this has something to do with your latest plan about Don Juan Triumphant."

Raoul looked puzzled. "How do you know?"

_An angel told me. _"It´s enough that I know. And you should know that I refuse to be part of this." She said firmly, hands on her hips. "I refuse to cooperate."

"Christine! The plan is our only chance of capturing this so-called Phantom! We can use his own trap against him, it´s fullproof…!"

"You make me laugh." Christine noted, though far from laughing. "You think that simply because you are naïve, he is as well? Even with a far more sophisticated scheme, your chances would be minimal. But I will sing in Don Juan." She said when he seemed to want to interject. "I´ve promised I would."

"Who? Him!" Raoul said, a frown on his face. It softened when he looked upon Christine as if she was a child that didn't understand what she was supposed to do with the doorknob to make the door open. "Christine, you cannot be serious about that. The man is mad – Madame Giry told me all about him. He is obsessed with you."

Christine nodded. "I am aware of that."

"And he is a murderer!"

"And _I _knocked you out when you tried to take him out." Christine added smugly, "Raoul, look…"

"No, Christine – listen!" he grabbed her hands, almost desperately, "I want to help you. I know it must be hard for you and that you cling to a so-called angel because you miss your father, but this man has no connection to that. He is a blackmailer, a murderer, he is mad. He will stop at nothing to get you."

"And your point is?"

"Christine… let me protect you." Raoul said gently, "Just say that you need me with you, to help you, and I will take you away from all this, and we will be happy, you will live in wealth and comfort, away from anything that could harm you – I will see to that."

Christine had to admit that it was kind of sweet, and that there were moments when she didn't really mind the romantic talk, but right now, it wasn't one of those moments. She wriggled her hands out of his grasp and sighed. "Raoul. How am I supposed to tell you this?"

"Say whatever you need to say… say the word and I will follow you…"

"No!" Christine cried, backing away a bit. _Whoa there, buddy. _"No! I want to say that I don't want this, Raoul! I want to say that besides friendship, I cannot see any relationship forming between us."

His mood silently dropping, he quietly asked, disappointed: "Why?"

"There are countless reasons!" She went for the usual phangirl explanation why RC was a blasphemous ship. "Music is all I have left of my father – and you would take it away from me. I live when I sing… when I am on the stage. Being a housewife is not a future that was meant for me. And a noblewoman doesn't belong in the opera anywhere else than in the audience."

Hanging his head, Raoul said sadly: "Is it because of _him_?"

Christine bit her lip. She was feeling a bit sorry for him, but it would have been worse had she given him false hopes. It was better to say this right now. "Not _only_ because of _him_." She said, avoiding the question carefully.

Sighing, she turned her back on him and went to walk out of the room, but not before his final words reached her. "The plan is set… the managers won´t back out of it. And I won´t, either."

_Then burn in the fires of Hell, tortured by EC shippers!_ Christine mentally yelled before slamming the door, hard. Had she turned, she would have really stayed true to her promise in the letter – and she didn't have the tools for it. She would have to shatter the glass angel there to get something sharp… and it was too pretty to break it.

X X X

Meg almost waltzed into the ballet dorms that evening, and when Christine asked her what had happened, she only demonstrated her newfound mastery of the deer-in-highlights look, so Christine laughed and correctly assumed that someone had scored.

The two didn't talk much that evening and Christine set out for her rehearsal with Erik without another word the next day. Meg´s ballet practice went well, she was ahead of schedule, and was in a great mood, since she and Gaston were regularly going for lunch or dinner these days. Not that it was much of a variety to choose from, but she wasn't complaining.

Overall, Christine´s reunion with Erik went well. Neither mentioned the last lesson, but Christine noticed that Erik carefully avoided PoNR from that point on, leaving it for the last moment.

The night of the premiere drew closer, and neither Christine nor Meg were as nervous as they thought they´d be. Actually, they were pretty relaxed, considering that they had the major climax of the storyline to handle very soon. However, they had things planned out, so it was going to be easier. Besides, they knew what to expect.

The day came, and no one in the Opera seemed to be able to concentrate on anything, shaky and a bit nervous. Only the two girls were alright. Raoul sometimes kept casting Christine thoughtful frowns, but otherwise, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Even the rose Christine found on her vanity before she changed into her costume wasn't out of the ordinary, by their standards.

Don Juan went rather smoothly. Christine watched the whole thing off-stage, and thought it looked really cool. She was nervous now, but only slightly, she knew what was going to happen, so it was okay. Her costume was fine – the "sleeves" were fun, she liked the rose, thought she looked a bit like a gypsy in the shirt, and considered the bracelets very pretty.

It was not as revealing as Meg´s, but even so, she probably wouldn't have worn this kind of dress in the 21st century.

Meg pirouetted around Piangi, smiled, caught the purse he threw her, and ran out of sight, winking at Christine, who was standing on the opposite end of the stage, waiting for her cue. Christine smiled and continued watching the scene. Although Piangi and Passarino were both quite fat, they were pretty good tonight. They probably knew how important it was.

When Piangi vanished behind the curtain, Christine took a deep breath and began walking forward, singing the introduction to the hardest part of the opera.

_No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy…_

_No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!_

Sitting down, she began fiddling with the roses in her basket, mentally attempting to brace herself for the scene. When she raised her head a moment later at the sound of a familiar voice, she knew that there was no bracing for this.


	19. Don Juan Continued

Author´s notes: AND HERE IT IS!

X X X

**Chapter 19 – Don Juan Continued**

X X X X

Meg was staring.

Again.

She was fully aware of this simple fact, but at the moment, she couldn't really care less. She was now in a more comfortable outfit than the usual corseted dress, in position, and actually armed. It felt a bit like in a western, to tell the truth. And then PoNR came and she had a hard time to stop her jaw from dropping.

From what the libretto said, everyone got the feeling that Don Juan was supposed to be absolutely irresistible to the average female. Those two words were more than fitting for the man Meg saw creep from behind the red curtain and lower the cloak that had been shielding his face. The only thing Meg could think of that could rival Erik as Don Juan when it came to hotness was Erik as Red Death.

After a few seconds of shameless drooling, she somehow managed to move her gaze from him to Christine, who was only several meters away from him, still sitting on the ground, but by now, obviously quite aware of who was about to start singing. She tensed a bit when Erik sang the first lines and stopped fiddling with the roses.

Christine drew several shallow breaths as the first lines reached her ears, but she didn't dare turn so far.

_You have come here_

_in pursuit of your deepest urge_

_in pursuit of that wish_

_which till now has been silent_

_silent…_

As he sang the first "silent", Christine simply couldn't do anything but turn and look at him, or else she would have had a breakdown right on-stage, which was not desired. As she turned, she caught a very meaningful but mischievous smile, and Erik swiftly put a finger to his lips to stop any sort of reaction from her. Not that it was needed – Christine was completely speechless.

She turned back to the front, her eyes wide, panting quietly as if she had run a mile. It was time for drastic things… she just hoped that Meg´s aim was good. She stood up, taking unnecessary care so that she wouldn't trip and make a fool of herself, because the excited phangirl part of her was celebrating so loud, it was hard to focus on anything else and the fact that every phangirl´s dreamguy was singing PoNR to her.

_I have brought you,_

_that our passions may fuse and merge -_

_in your mind you've already_

_succumbed to me_

_dropped all defenses_

_completely succumbed to me -_

_now you are here with me_

_no second thoughts_

_you've decided_

_decided . . ._

_Yeah, I´ve decided. I´m marrying you, honey._ Christine thought, biting her tongue to stop the hungry expression from surfacing. She stood there, silent, waiting for the inevitable, jubilant screams that she couldn't voice ringing through her head.

_Past the point of no return -_

_no backward glances:_

_the games we've played till now are at an end_

_Past all thought of "if" or "when" -_

_no use resisting:_

_abandon thought, and let the dream descend..._

It happened so sudden Christine didn't even have time to gasp. Meg, however, gasped a bit, as she watched the first of the many "touches" from the scene, meaning that Christine was going to be touched by the Angel of Music… a lot, and certainly not innocently. Meg´s insides were actually burning just by looking at the motions his hands were making, which was saying something.

_What raging fire shall flood the soul?_

_What rich desire unlocks its door?_

_What sweet seduction lies before us?_

Christine returned to reality from the seventh heaven she had been in – Erik´s expression mirrored perfectly what was going on inside her mind, thus it was easy for her to imagine that he was going through exactly the same thing she was, though she had done very little. Maybe it was the outfit… well, he had had a good view of her cleavage when he had been holding her from behind. That might count for something.

_Past the point of no return,_

_the final threshold -_

_what warm, unspoken secrets will we learn?_

_Beyond the point of no return…_

Much unlike in the movie, Christine didn't even glance away from him, much less even tried to correct her already fallen "sleeves" and thus make the outfit look about five percent more modest. Finally, she was able to relax a bit and let the hungry expression surface – after all, she was supposed to be a poor seduced ingénue, and what he was doing would seduce even a crazy you-know-what such as Carlotta.

_You have brought me_

_to that moment where words run dry_

_to that moment where speech disappears into silence_

_silence…_

From afar, Meg couldn't help but notice the quick glance Erik spared Raoul… and the fact that the Vicomte seemed to realize what was going on. She prepared one of the guns – she didn't want to risk missing if she would fire from both at the same time – and waited to see what would happen.

_I have come here,_

_hardly knowing the reason why_

_In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining_

_defenseless and silent_

_now I am here with you_

_no second thoughts_

_I've decided_

_decided . . ._

_You have no idea,_ Christine thought privately, and continued singing with a smile that was a bit of an eager grin and a yearning smirk… all mixed up.

_Past the point of no return_

_no going back now_

_our passion-play has now, at last, begun_

_Past all thought of right or wrong_

_one final question:_

_how long should we two wait, before we're one?_

_When will the blood begin to race_

_the sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames, at last, consume us?_

Meg almost chuckled when Christine dropped into the lower voice for the last two words, but continued watching vigilantly. Thus far, nothing had really happened… well, the worst was not over yet. It depended primarily on how long it would take Raoul to realize that it would be good to give the order to shoot.

_Past the point of no return_

_the final threshold -_

_the bridge is crossed_

_so stand and watch it burn_

Christine wasn't nervous anymore as she advanced, but still, it was a thrilling sensation. They were only inches from each other before the pirouette that ended with her back pressed against him. She had been waiting for this, for several reasons, one of them being finding out what many phans had been wondering for so long – if he… um… liked the scene, to be polite. Had she not been back in heaven, she would have smiled.

_We've passed the point of no return…_

And then, a moment later, Christine heard the rest, which definitely wasn't in the libretto.

_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Lead me, save me from my solitude_

_Say you want me with you, here beside you_

She opened her eyes and turned around, ending up far, far too close to him, but she didn't want to do anything stupid. She knew what to do, and it wasn't going to be the cliché kissing that would give everything away.

_Anywhere you go let me go too!_

_Christine, that's all I ask of you…!_

Breathing heavily, she smiled and, unable to speak since she thought her voice had to be on vacation, or, at least on the party in her head, she simply nodded… and then finished the aria. Several dozens of feet away, Meg Giry punched the air and silently bellowed "YES!"


	20. Really Ridiculous Rescue

**Author´s notes:** Long time, no update, I know! Sorry about that… I had exams. Hope they went well. Anyway, here it is! The replies to your reviews should be in my profile now!

X X X

**Chapter 20 - Really Ridiculous Rescue**

X X X

Meg, in the middle of her war victory dance, watched eagerly as the first and possibly final production of Don Juan Triumphant continued right before her eyes. It seemed that the audience hardly noticed what had happened on-stage, and that was fine with her. The less attention would be attracted to that, the better for them.

Meanwhile, she risked a precious minute of the production to run backstage and drag Piangi out of sight – a feat that wasn't exactly easy, considering how fat the Italian tenor was. Still, she heard everything, and once she closed the door to the small broomcloset into which she had pushed him, Christine appeared from nowhere, beaming. Meg gave her the thumbs-up, but a moment later, the other girl was required on-stage again, so there was no time to talk.

While Meg had only seen several operas – both here and before "getting here" – she thought this one was the best. For various reasons, naturally. The best thing about this was that it actually continued and she was able to find out how the whole thing ended. Well, she knew it before that, since she read the script, but seeing it was way better.

The looks on some of the people´s faces changed from distasteful to curious and in some cases, to fascinated. The ending was magnificent, the arias wonderful, the plotline unfolded itself neatly. In short, it was one hell of an opera, and even the total opera haters would end up with their jaws dropped low.

It seemed that after the curtain dropped, the audience didn't even realize that it was over. After a somewhat strange silence, applause broke out, and Meg punched the air again. Somehow, things were going well. One by one, from chorus girls and dancers to the main protagonists, the cast returned to the stage to take their bows when the curtain rose again.

Carlotta was rewarded with an applause as well, though Meg saw her throw a glare of deepest loathing at Christine when she stepped forth (though she was still on the bridge above the "put of fire") and claimed a far greater ovation. And, seemingly from nowhere, she saw Erik appear behind her friend and gently but swiftly claim her hand – Christine, by now used to this "Invisible Man" thing, didn't flinch that much now. Even most of the cast applauded them, actually, as they stepped forth and bowed.

And then, a shriek cut through the clapping.

Meg swore. Carlotta had stormed away the moment the greatest applause arose and seemed to have been so furious that she mistook the doors… and ended up finding Piangi, probably. Bugger. Looking up at Raoul just in time, Meg saw him gesticulating to someone quickly and saw that the police seemed to be nodding. She decided to be quicker.

Raising both guns at the same time wasn't hard, but aiming them was. Two shots rang through the air, one aimed at Raoul, the other aimed quite randomly (for informative purposes, it hit the creature often known as the Furby Man, this time disguised as a man in a suit, but the injury was not fatal – just a scratch. So the Furby lovers may sigh in relief).

It caused somewhat of a havoc, but Meg swore again when she missed Raoul by a few inches. However, the confusion was more than enough. Something silver flashed to Christine´s right and Meg turned her head just in time to see the flames literally consume the two people who were supposed to be on the bridge.

She had no time to even yell anything. At that moment, her shriek would have been drowned by the screams of others. Several hundred kilograms of metal, crystal and light came crashing down, tearing the supporting chains from the very walls. Meg´s mouth fell open at the sight of the magnificent disaster. It was so calculated and impressive that she was actually awed – a rare thing.

Throwing away the now useless pistols, wishing she had asked for the knife as well, Meg sprinted to where she saw a familiar dress whip out of sight. She sidestepped Gaston, who seemed to have found her even amidst the turmoil, and went for her mother. She found her just in time to see her answer Raoul.

"Meg, you stay here!" Giry ordered her, "Come with me, Monsieur!"

"Damn!" Meg cursed, but tried to stop the crowd rushing after them, as she remembered "herself" doing in the movie. There was no controlling a mob, however, so she went for Christine´s dressing room. She was almost there when a hand grabbed hers. She turned sharply. It was Gaston.

"Meg, we must get to safety!"

"I´ve got to get to Christine!"

"You cannot help her!"

"What makes you think I can´t?" Meg challenged.

A sigh. "I believe you know far more than you´ve told me… but it´s dangerous."

"Dangerous is my middle name."

"I thought that was Eloise."

"Well… another name, then." Meg said sheepishly. She sighed as well. "I can do this. Just… trust me. Please." She added, a word she didn't use often.

Leroux seemed very much against the very idea of letting her go down there alone, but then reluctantly let go of her hand. Meg smiled, but didn't even have the time to kiss him or anything, seeing as she realized that she was running out of time. Thus, she dashed to the dressing room.

She considered breaking the mirror, but that might provide the mob with a new entrance. After a minute, she discovered how it was opened. "Time to kick some fop butt."

X X X

The endless wet stony corridors were a nightmare for Christine´s bare feet, especially when she was supposed to run through them. At least she was not being dragged, she mused, but nevertheless, it was like a sprint. She thought that overall, it went well, but the end was a bit messed up.

Erik hardly even spared her a glace as they ran, but it didn't bother her now. They probably got to the lair quicker since she wasn't giving any resistance. Once out of the boat, the chase finally seemed to stop for a moment, and, panting, they stopped to look at each other, this time not looking away.

"Christine," Erik said finally, "You…"

"I´m certain." Christine nodded, thinking she was thinking the same thing. She was right. "I said…"

"Christine Daaé," he interrupted her, stepping closer and then dropping to one knee, "will you marry me?"

Once her teenage mind grasped the full context of the words, which wasn't much later, she smiled and clearly said: "Yes. Yes, I will." She was rewarded with the most wonderful smile she could imagine – one of the first she had seen from Erik – and a ring she remembered from the book was on her finger a moment later. A simple golden band.

"We must leave, now." Erik said, interrupting the fireworks in her head. "You should change. But I´m afraid the only dress is…" the rest of the sentence was left hanging in the air. But Christine beamed, nodded, and went for the mannequin immediately. Still, she closed the curtains. They had time.

_Is there anything Phantom that isn't cleavage-exposing?_ She asked herself. Still, she liked the dress. It was clearly made with love and caring, and it fit her far better than she thought it would. The bad thing was that she didn't know what to pack. The only thing she knew she must take was the script of Don Juan… and maybe the music box. Meg wouldn't want it anyway.

Emerging from behind the curtains, Christine went to find the script. She hadn't even progressed several steps when a voice she knew all too well called from her left. "Christine!"

Gritting her teeth, Christine turned to the portcullis with a not too friendly expression. Somehow, the Fop had survived. Then again, it was to be expected. After the end of the world, only cockroaches and fops would survive, she thought. It should be a biological fact.

"Raoul, what the bloody hell are you doing here?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her anger.

"I´m here to save you, come quickly!"

Christine almost rolled her eyes. "Rescue is unnecessary – I am not a captive."

"Then he has truly twisted your mind." The Vicomte said sadly, "This isn't right, Christine, you don't have to stay here with that monster."

"This is getting tiresome." Christine muttered.

Then, with a slight rustle of curtains, she knew Erik had returned. She turned her head only slightly, because she knew what she would see. Or thought she did. The "Oooh, chest!" avatar made her smile quite often, but she wasn't expecting Erik to be in full "Phantom attire", meaning that save for the mask, he was fully dressed in clothes similar to those he had worn when he first brought her down here.

"My dear, it appears we have a guest! Sir, this is indeed an unparalleled delight!"

_At least some things never change._ Christine thought.


	21. the Final Plunge

**Author's notes: **Well, this was a quick update! Caution: This is not the end, people! And I want reviews, plenty of them, before I update again! Mwahahahahah!

Review replies are in my profile.

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**Chapter 21 – the Final Plunge**

X X X X

Any kind of pity, sympathy, or other positive emotion reserved for Raoul vanished from Christine's mind. She saw only the foolish fop that walked into the jaws of death and had done so needlessly. Couldn't he take a hint?

Besides, his hair could be only described by the word "abysmal" at the current moment. She actually mentally recited the lines Erik was saying just as he said them – they were the same.

"I had rather hoped that you would come! And now, my wish comes true! You have truly made my night." She felt herself yanked towards him for a moment, but she was so close that she didn't really lose her balance. Raoul continued with his semi-heroic ramble.

"Free her! Do what you want, only free her! Have you no pity?"

"Why Monsieur, what a passionate plea!" Erik mocked.

"I know – he's useless." Christine muttered, but wasn't sure whether Erik heard her or not.

"I love her!" the fop called again, "Does that mean nothing!"

"Jackpot." Christine muttered.

"I love her! Show some compassion!"

"The world showed no compassion to me!" Erik bellowed. Christine felt the urge to hug him, but resisted it, for the time being. Murderous Erik might be hot, but she didn´t fancy the idea of being used to went his anger.

"Christine! Christine! Let me see her!"

"Be my _guest_, sir." And Erik made a move towards the nearest lever. At that moment, Christine knew she must act. Gently but swiftly, she grabbed his hand, so he turned towards her.

"No." she said simply, "We have no time for games. Leave him, let us go."

Erik simply looked at her, but it seemed that he understood. From what Christine could read from his expression, he hadn't realized that lingering might put her in harm's way until now and understood the wisdom in what she said. Lowering his arm, he nodded only slightly to her and quickly went to grab the copy of Don Juan she herself wanted to take.

"But Christine…!" Raoul called from the portcullis, where he still stood, waiting for what was to come. At that exact moment, Christine lost her patience and took out the knife she had been concealing in the lower part of her skirts, since she didn't want Erik finding it and it was doubtful that during the performance, she would be rid of all her clothing.

She held it in her right hand like a dagger, and even Erik seemed to be surprised at this course of action, though he saw what she had done at the graveyard. "Listen, Raoul." She could think of no suitable insult, so she simply used his name. "I am attempting to save your worthless neck from a Punjab lasso, and I heard that being strangled is not a pleasant death. So leave before I make good on the threat I made when you messed with my plans last time."

Raoul wanted to say something, but then his eyes lost focus and he collapsed into the dirty water, quite unconscious, revealing a slim figure behind him, her fist still clenched – she had delivered a nasty blow to his head. This being the second one in the span of a few days, it was questionable whether he would suffer brain damage. Then again, there was probably no greater damage to make than the one already genetically present there.

Meg whipped her long hair out of her face and let out a breath of relief. "That takes care of him." She said victoriously, then looked up. Her eyes widened when she saw the lair in its full glory, but Christine wasted no time and immediately threw herself at the lever that raised the portcullis.

Realizing that time was against them, Meg sprinted through the water to the shore, soaking the lower part of her pants. By the time she set foot on solid ground, Erik was breaking the nearest mirrors. Splitters were everywhere, and some flew dangerously close to Meg and Christine.

Meg sidestepped to avoid one of the larger shards and grabbed Christine for support. But the other girl hadn't been expecting it and lost balance. If she fell alone, perhaps she would have been able to regain the balance. But Meg´s weight dragged her down. Erik turned at the sound of Meg´s surprised shriek and, quicker than the eye could see, moved to grab Christine's right hand, which was still outstretched, but he only brushed his fingers against hers.

The last thing he saw was Christine's beautiful face, surprised and unable to stop the fall. Then, there was a large splash of water before the blackness of the lake returned to the peaceful, glass-like state, undisturbed by anything.

At that exact moment when she touched the waters, she opened her eyes, releasing a pant as if she had plunged into the deepest sea, and recognized that instead of water, air was surrounding her.


	22. Old News

**Author´s notes:** I decided to have some mercy. However, I think most of you will dislike the end of this chapter… since it is TEH CLIFFHANGER! Many thanks goes to Opera Angel, my beta! Replies are in my profile.

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**Chapter 22 – Old News**

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Christine sat up so quickly, she saw stars for a moment. Later, she saw that it was only due to the fact that she was facing a window – a window that showed a sunlit landscape. A landscape of a city…

A very 21st century city…

She sprang from the bed she had been sitting on and quickly ran to the window, all fatigue forgotten. The city outside wasn't Paris. Nor was it her hometown. She frowned. What had happened? Had she landed in some other universe, another time and space? The wind brought her hair into her face and she brushed it aside and froze.

Seizing the strand, she looked at it immediately. This wasn't her hair. Or was it? She tugged it a bit. "Ow!" It was her hair. Her grandma had often said she looked like a fairytale princess with long golden tresses. She used to be content with calling her hair blonde, dark blonde, dirty blonde when she was mad at it, and golden blonde when she had a moment of vanity.

And it was straight, completely straight, a fact envied by most curly haired girls she used to know. She looked at the city in front of her. Being smart, she was able to put two and two together, and a shriek from the next room confirmed to her that Meg realized it too.

She hurried there, finding an all-too-familiar girl standing in front of a mirror, gazing at her reflection with horror. Then she saw Christine…no, Regina in the mirror and turned to her with an expression of shock.

"Y-you too?" she stuttered. Regina, seeing her reflection in the mirror, didn't have the energy to think up a sarcastic reply, but only nodded with a sigh, looking a bit defeated.

"Guess it was too good to last."

"You're kidding, aren't you!" Amanda boomed, "You were about to marry the Hotness of the Opera and work hard on producing mini-ghosts! In your place, I'd explode. Wait, I will! I was about to do the same with Gaston, but NO! We fall into the stupid lake and get back here!" she seemed to cool down, but only a bit – her face was now slightly red. "Why the hell did we end up back here, anyways?"

Regina shrugged, "I guess whatever got us here didn't want me to ruin that wonderful wedding dress." Amanda laughed humorlessly.

"Ah, you girls are finally up!" An imperious voice called from the doorway. The pair turned their heads to see Regina's mother, a semi-tall, dark haired and green eyed woman.

Amanda still stared, but Regina only nodded. "Yeah, we overslept a bit. Sorry 'bout that, Mom."

"At least you're up. And dressed, I see – that's a record in your case." She glared mildly at Regina, who withstood it easily. "Anyway, we're going to a restaurant for lunch, so prepare to choose your food – I heard these English people cook terribly."

"English?" both girls gawped.

"Still asleep? We're in London, remember?"

"London?" Amanda asked, goggling at Regina's mom, who shook her head.

"The time zone change wasn't extreme. Must be the weather." She glared out of the window. "It seems to rain on and on forever."

Regina, paler now, nodded. "Alright, I'll go find an umbrella. Meet you in five minutes, alright?"

"Fine with me, Gina. Amy's parents and Dad are preparing the details, but be prepared to stay out for the whole day. Understood?"

"Oui, oui." Regina replied immediately, but then frowned when her mother laughed a bit, but only briefly.

"You're taking that French seriously, then? Good." And she departed with a smile.

Regina sighed in relief, but then looked at Amanda, who was frowning. "There's got to be some sort of mistake here. We weren't in London when we got to Paris. We weren't on vacation – and certainly not together! This isn't the right place!"

"Nor the right time." Regina, who saw a newspaper on the nearest paper and went to look at it, said. She seemed shocked. She almost slapped her forehead when Amanda took it. "We're approximately 1 year in the past."


	23. Bathroom Arias

**Author´s notes: **Voila!

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**Chapter 23 – Bathroom Arias**

X X X

"Now this is simply ridiculous." Amanda muttered. Regina didn't respond. She was too busy with her own thoughts. Their parents had deemed them ready to go ten minutes after she found the newspaper, so they set off to the chosen restaurant immediately.

She wasn't wondering how they got back – it was beyond her imagination, so she decided to leave it. What she was wondering was how come they didn't end up simply waking up on the sofa, at home, in the correct year. Did someone – or something – mess up their journey back? And what the hell were they doing in London?

Things were definitely different than she remembered them. For one thing, her parents and Amanda´s hadn't even met by now. And now they were on a common vacation? Something very strange was going on, and she was determined to find out what it was.

Meanwhile, they reached the restaurant and their parents took it upon themselves to study the menu. The two girls kept staring at random pieces of furniture. Just as the parents began to notice the suspicious behavior, both said in unison:

"I need to go to the bathroom."

Surprised, a bit suspicious, but cautious, the parents allowed it and the pair dashed out of the restaurant the moment they were out of sight. Outside, they stopped – Regina panting a bit – and Amanda almost growled, which, in any other situation, Regina would have found immensely humorous.

"This is mad!" she snarled, "It doesn't feel right, not at all!"

Regina sighed. "I know. Everything is as it should be… except us." She frowned. Was their little ride back in the past real at all? Was it a… dream? She shook her head. Too cliché. Well, no one ever said fate had no sense of humor.

Apparently, Amanda was wondering the same thing. "If we were really there, we should be able to do all of the stuff." Regina jumped a bit, her train of thought broken. Amanda had a very insistent gleam in her eyes, like she often did when she wanted to persuade Regina to join an insane scheme. "We should test it."

"Test it how?"

Amanda sighed. Dreamers – they never knew when to snap out of it. "Sing, idiot."

To her utter shock and rage, Regina looked at her as if she were mad and then laughed as if she was mad herself. Apparently, she found the logical solution very amusing. "Brilliant idea, Sherlock Holmes! Sing opera in a street in one of the biggest cities of the world! And you say I´m the idiot."

"Well, dancing ballet would be even stupider." Amanda snapped sourly, "So, what´s it gonna be, miss diva?"

In desperation, Regina grabbed Amanda´s hand and pulled her away from the main street, where the restaurant was, to one of those that would pass for an alley. She wasn't very comfortable – even broad daylight didn't secure them fully. She was a bit paranoid, but then again, she knew what to expect from large cities when there was no one else around. Amanda tried to show a bit more bravery than she felt and kept a straight face, but even she wasn't too happy about going out of sight. Still, she knew why Regina was doing it.

"Well? Picked your aria already?" she asked, her voice slightly more confident than it was before as they finally stopped.

"Mands, this is gonna be quick, quiet, and then we go back and forget this, okay." Regina said carefully, "We can´t change anything, so let´s…"

"I get it, now stop the pep talk and sing!"

Glaring, but taking a deep breath, Regina sang what first came to her mind, the first operatic duet she ever sang - even before they were dragged back in time.

_Vorrei e non vorrei, (I would, and yet I would not,)_  
_Mi trema un poco il cor. (I dare not give assent,)_  
_Felice, è ver, sarei, (Alas! I know I should not...)_  
_Ma può burlarmi ancor. (Too late, I may repent.)_

Amanda beamed for a second. "Great, you can do it!"

Regina let out a deep breath, but didn't have the time to reply, because she turned her head sharply. She thought she heard something. Silencing her friend with a look, she took out a knife she had been playing with in the restaurant before they left and which she took with her, since they were in a hurry.

She thought she heard an echo of "Vieni, mio bel diletto!" (Come, dearest, let me guide thee!), which was the next line of the duet.

The knife fell out of her hand a moment later. Amanda let out a squeal – an unusual thing – but Regina stood there, petrified. This was too much, even for her. She felt strange, like she usually did before a major exam, and as if someone had slapped her, she simply felt her legs give away and someone caught her.

"Christine…!" someone said above her.

"No worries, Monsieur le Fantôme, she is simply overjoyed." Amanda´s voice said smugly.


	24. Wakeup calls

Author´s notes: You really haven't guessed what has happened. (laughs)

X X X

**Chapter 24 – Wake-up calls**

X X X X

Regina was brought back to reality by a splash of cold water – literally. Apparently, Amanda thought that the best means of waking her friend was with a shock even greater than the one she had experienced moments ago. Thus the blonde winced and inhaled sharply, and her hand immediately went for Amanda´s throat, the intent being obvious.

The brunette caught her hand quickly enough, obviously expecting this or something of the sort. "Up and at ´em, Princess. No time to do your dramatic faints. By the way, you´ve perfected the act."

"Next time you do that to me I´ll kill you immediately." Regina hissed, shivering a bit. She wiped a wet strand of hair from her face. "Now explain what the hell is happening."

"You´re not insane, if you mean that." Amanda said with a chuckle, "Not _that_ insane, anyway."

"Thanks."

"Anyway, for a moment there I thought we were both losing it. You fainting and me hearing… well, you know who."

"And?" Regina sat up.

"We´re not losing it. It just seems that…"

"Christine!"

Amanda almost laughed when "Christine" looked like a fish, staring, before ending up in an embrace which Amanda narrowly avoided. She moved to where Regina´s surprised face was, with an impossible grin on her face.

"It seems that the body shift works both sides, if you get my drift, girl." she whispered, with a maniacal grin that screamed "if you only knew what I know". Just as soon as Regina was about to demand to know what was going on, she was released and Amanda´s grin broadened as Regina stared some more.

Descriptions are unneeded, but it took her a second to understand what Amanda meant, put it together with the fact that Gerard Butler was about fifty centimeters from her and stop herself from thinking things that would make Amanda proud.

It seemed that he also noticed the change, for her surveyed Regina curiously. "Christine… you look… different."

Amanda collapsed in fits of suppressed laughter. Regina bit her lip, but then looked quickly at the other girl. Their parents were still in that damned restaurant… "Amy, please go explain that I´m having um… girl problems at the bathroom and will be back in a bit."

Amanda nodded, understanding. "Got it, Tina." she grinned when Regina frowned – it was a crossing between a nickname for "Christine" and "Regina". Tina and Gina. And with that she wandered off.

Once she was gone, Regina disentangled herself from the embrace and stood up, thinking about how in the world she was to explain this. Taking a deep breath, she said: "You might have noticed that the surroundings are a bit… different than Paris, 1870, no?"

X X X

Fifteen minutes later, Regina returned to the restaurant. And she was alone. Amanda´s neck hurt, since she had been looking for her among the guests, with no avail. Now, the blonde was putting away her cellphone. She wasn't exactly grinning or smiling, but seemed quite satisfied with herself.

"Regina, what in the world have you been doing in there?" Regina´s father asked. "You´ve been gone for almost half an hour! Your food is bound to be cold by now."

Regina shrugged innocently. "I ran into a friend – you remember Sylvia from my class? She´s in London this year, and I met her and a few others around here. We had to talk a bit, you know."

Suppressing a grin, Amanda made room for Regina and as the other girl sat down, her mood got a bit better, especially when she saw Regina look out of the window and smile warmly. Following where she was looking, Amanda didn't manage to suppress a grin this time. She would recognize that face anywhere. Regina, however, quietly returned to her food.

On their way through the city, she started a whispered conversation about what Regina told him – how on earth did she explain everything? And Regina answered – she began with them, where they are from, the current world and then moved on to what had happened. And it seemed that (fortunately) the same thing that had happened to them happened to him.

"_And that is why I look different." she concluded, "And why you look different."_

The greatest fit of laughter came when she explained that she took out a mirror she was always carrying with herself and gave it to him, showing him his own face. She didn't know how to describe that simple happiness she saw form in his eyes – she herself must have been beaming. Afterwards, she let out a little shriek when he suddenly grabbed her and embraced her tightly, almost dancing with her for a moment.

The silent fits of laughter when Regina was describing his reactions turned into open laughing when she reached the moment when she said she told him about the book and the musical. It had to be as brief as possible, but Amanda thought her friend covered the most important points.

"And you just let him go after that?" she whispered afterwards, "Alone, in an unfamiliar city, you left poor O.G.?"

"Of course not!" Regina snapped, smiling, "He O.G. and G.B. both, just like you´re M.G and A.H. at the same time. He knows the things he needs to know… he´s only a bit shocked, that´s all. Besides," she grinned, "I gave him my phone number, and if he remembers all he should, I think he knows how to use the phone."

Amanda covered her mouth in mock outrage. "Do you realize your own luck, girl?"

"I do. And that´s the beauty of it." Regina smirked, "The only problem is how we´re going to be meeting… and once we go home…"

"He´s O.G. he´ll think of something."

"I´m counting on that." Regina sighed.

Amanda rolled her eyes. "He would walk all the way to your house back on the Continent if he wouldn't find another way."

"Yeah. Life is good."


	25. the Bad Hair Day Theory

**Author´s notes:** Ah, pietà, signori miei! Ah, have pity! The end of term exams, no time to write, and a brief writer´s block… you get the idea. Well, I suppose we´re nearing the end. I promised a chapter, here it is. Anyone who can tell me the meaning of the girls´ surnames gets chocolate!

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**Chapter 25 – the Bad Hair Day Theory**

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The night had come at last. After combining their efforts and forcing their parents to buy tickets, Amanda and Regina managed to succeed in part 1 of the reason why they were pretty excited to be in London – they were going to see PotO live at long last. It was a year before they planned, but they didn't really care. It was merely another reason to see it, since they could compare the movie and the stage show.

They both realized that right now, they knew things no one in the whole wide world knew – political stuff, cultural shocks, revelations… the newest fashion trends… and what mistakes they made in their tests, plus when they had to study more in order to achieve better grades. In short, as Amanda had noted, they were damned lucky.

Since only Amanda had a more formal dress - a red one with sequins so shiny Regina faked covering her eyes from the reflection in fear of getting blinded – and she hadn't brought it with her, apparently, it was time to get some better outfits, and both of them insisted on doing this shopping alone, though the parents would remain nearby, in other shops.

Both had a certain price limit, but that didn't really matter to either of them. Normally, it would take them about ten seconds to spot what they wanted. This time, they were going through the piles of clothes for at least half an hour before either of them found anything.

Regina went for what her desired dress back in the future they had left behind looked like – black with silver patterns. She had never liked the combination of black and gold, so she went for this. Amanda chose a dark red that would have easily passed for blood, had it been a liquid. Nothing overly daring. Regina in particular wasn't fond of being the object of attention of men, not because she didn't like being in the center of attention, but because she didn't fancy the idea that some might think of her simply as an… object, you could say.

With some slight difficulties, she managed to create her speciality – a French braid using four strands instead of three. After seeing Lord of the Rings, she´d wanted to learn the "fishnet braid", but never succeeded – she only managed to find out how this hairstyle worked. Amanda, whose hair was shorter, settled for leaving it loose rather than her usual ponytail.

Perhaps it wasn't going to be a night full of surprises, since both knew mostly what effects were going to be used in the performance, but they were very much looking forward to it nonetheless. Amanda wondered whether Erik – she still thought of him under that name, it was difficult to decide which one to use now, as it had been back in the past when they were the ones with a different identity – would make an appearance, among the audience, naturally. Regina told her that she had told him about the performance, but also reminded him that people weren't used to ghosts in this century other than those in amusement parks.

The proximity of their parents was also a thing to consider.

Amanda and Regina were the first to find their seats and debated for a while whether it was going to be similar to what they were used to. When the show started, no matter how the others were impressed, Regina remained slightly critical. Amanda enjoyed it a bit more – though she thought the chandelier should have crashed louder – but also saw that some details weren't to her liking. For the first time they realized that while the songs were excellent, there were moments where they would have preferred a new melody and at times, the songs didn't fully capture what they had felt in those situations.

During the break, their parents were eagerly debating the performance. Regina´s parents, both being artists, had a slightly more critical look, but liked it as well. Regina excused herself after a few moments, since she decided she´d better go to the bathroom before act 2, having drunk more orange juice than was perhaps necessary (she felt a bit dehydrated). Knowing perfectly well that not every guy that looked at her would realize she´s only fifteen (especially in this kind of dress) she kept her eyes fixed on the bathroom door, which she had found after a few seconds.

She was only several steps away from the door when a hand – and clearly a man´s – rested gently on her shoulder. Just as she was about to turn around and say something, she nearly jumped when a voice she knew far too well spoke from far too short a distance into her ear: "It would have been far more enjoyable if you had been singing a part that was clearly written for you, my dear."

A couple of meters away, Amanda turned around hurriedly and asked the four parents: "How do you suppose it will end?" and when they answered, she quickly proceeded to continue the discussion. She had seen him before Regina did, and knew one thing – no matter how young the girls that married in the 1870ties were, it wasn't very customary for a man who, Amanda remembered a bit bitterly, was still old enough to be Regina´s father to show such an interest in her. Or, at least, it wasn´t very welcome. It didn't seem to trouble either of the pair, but Amanda was quite sure that there would be problems with that later on.

Regina stared for a moment, then blinked and shook her head slightly, for two reasons: one being assuring herself that the sight of Gerard Butler, looking amazing in a black suit and white shirt with a hand on her shoulder, an amused smile on his face and the fact that he had called her "my dear" was real and she didn't belong in an asylum, the other being that she wanted to say "no" and name a reason why, but for some reason, her voice went to the bathroom without her.

After a few seconds, she cleared her throat slightly and managed to say: "I´m not a professional singer, I have told you that last time." She dropped her voice. "Do you even realize what you´re putting at stake right about now?"

"Absolutely nothing, Christine." he replied quietly, "Though having been beautiful from the moment you were born, I doubt you understand how… elevating it is not to be the center of negative attention. You should remember Erik´s face well, dear, I don't think it´s something easy to forget."

Regina lowered her eyes for a moment – she hadn't realized that, all was going too well to remember these things. Instead of opposing him, she remembered that she had to remind him of one thing. "Regina. That´s my name… here." she said, "Regina Chael."

"You´ll always be Christine to me." Was the whispered response that almost made her blush.

"As romantic as that might have sounded to women a century in the past, I have to remind you that everyone knows me as Regina. Of course you may call me Christine in private, I´m used to the name, but…"

"…but it would be very difficult to explain if anyone overheard. I agree." He said with a curt nod. "You know what to call me, then?"

"Of course. I would say there isn't a single phangirl who wouldn't know that." Regina laughed.

"A what?"

"Oh, never mind that. But we shouldn't be standing here, my parents are nearby, we would have a lot of explaining to do if they would see…"

"No need." Erik said, looking above her shoulder. Regina was tall (176 cm 5´9´´, at least according to what internet calculators told her), but he still towered her by at least five inches. "It seems your ballerina friend is taking care of them."

Regina turned and saw Amanda rambling something to her (Regina´s) father. She almost laughed, but was stopped by the question: "And what new or should I say old identity does the resident ballet rat have?"

"Amanda Kerri." she said, with a slight smile, "Introductions made, I believe."

"Not entirely." It was his turn to smile when Regina´s face became a bit confused. "Come, we must make haste, we´ve only a few minutes left and I´m certain your companions will be missing you if you don´t return quickly." Taking her hand, he pulled her to the left, still, to Regina´s annoyance, amused by her confusion.

It was then that Regina saw where and to whom she was being led, and, not being stupid, understood what he wanted to attempt to do. While not necessarily against the idea, she wasn't certain that directors took kindly to have quasi-talents thrown at them, especially on an occasion such as this one.

Not far away, Amanda chanced a glance at her friend, and found her just in time to see her pulled through the crowds. Amanda being Amanda, the first idea that popped into her mind was not exactly the most modest reason for why Regina might be pulled away willingly. Then she dismissed that – Regina was too… proper to do something like that. Well, thus far. Amanda grinned to herself. She had managed to "taint" her a bit over the years they had known each other.

And then she saw the two stop – Regina put on a polite but nervous smile as she shook hands with someone out of Amanda´s sight. It seemed that she wasn't required to do much talking, because from that moment, she didn't open her mouth for about a minute, during which she managed to catch Amanda´s eye. The brunette frowned, since she didn't understand why the blonde kept looking as though this was some kind of difficult task she was going through. As if going for a drink, Amanda moved a bit to the right to see who was there with the pair. And it was lucky she hadn't sipped it yet when she saw why Regina seemed anxious – she probably would have choked on the drink.

There were a lot of guys with bad haircuts in the world, but even from afar, the abysmal haircut of Joel Schumacher was unmistakable.


	26. French lessons, Egyptian breakthroughs

Author's notes: After eons of waiting, after such a long time, here is the new chapter, before you guys kill me! It's not the end, and I hope to write at least two more chapters before I have to end the story. Now, this was a tough one – you all knew what was coming, I had to make it good. But it's here! Question for you people: should I continue calling Erik Erik or not?

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**Chapter 26 – French lessons and Egyptian break-throughs**

X X X X

"This is a bad idea." Regina muttered to herself two days later, causing an unusually bubbly Amanda to roll her eyes. They were sitting in a taxi, riding to the biggest and probably first break-through point that could change their lives, as Regina kept repeating ever since she had been presented with the offer.

"Calm down, Gin, you'll do fine. Just start singing the Queen of the Night's Vengeance aria and you'll see how their eyes fall out." Amanda said brightly, "Or that Bell Song you keep mentioning as the height of complicated, from that Indian opera…. Padmé, or something, right?"

"Lakmé." Regina corrected, with a calmer but more snappish voice, "Padmé´s a Star Wars Character. The opera's called Lakmé."

"Yeah, well, alright." Amanda shrugged, "The point is, it's hard, and it'll show you know your stuff." She was very joyful today, knowing that after what they had been through, this was in the bag. She had been very hyper ever since the end of the performance of Phantom, actually, but that was beside the point. Today, she was jubilant.

It was common knowledge – at least Regina thought so – that Amanda loathed the color yellow. She didn't know why, but assumed Amanda thought it much too bright. Today, however, the self-proclaimed tomboy was wearing a shirt of sunny yellow and a black skirt, probably to balance it out. Her hair was in a ponytail and her eye shadow and eyeliner matched her attire, giving her the look of a near-Egyptian.

Regina sighed. She felt ill – as always before a test or an important thing. She had been quite surprised when a lunar calendar on the internet correctly deduced that her weakest point was her stomach, but she wasn't happy with the discovery. To "mask" the fact that her pallor was even greater than usual, she was wearing a white blouse and blue jeans.

The moment she had realized who she was being led to during that break two days ago was as if an anvil had fallen on her head, like it would in a cartoon. The bad thing was, she couldn't escape, and the vainer part of her didn't want to. That part also deduced Erik's plan with ease and spotted where she came in. Yes, "Christine" would be a star… just not on the stage, for a while.

She had endured the introduction, said her name with a smile and listened carefully to all the praise of her voice Erik was saying, sparing him only a brief "If I didn't love you I'd kill you" look. And so an audition was arranged. Just in time, she had been told, they were almost finished with the list of candidates. She had been given the time and place – the biggest problem was that the auditions were in New York City.

Afterwards, Erik led her away, back to the area where her parents stood, and Amanda, who spotted them, rushed in. Regina regained her voice as she introduced her, reminding Erik that it was Meg, Madame Giry´s daughter. Amanda positively beamed when he brought her hand to his lips with the old-fashioned politeness and beamed even more when Regina explained after their parting what he meant when he said "Christine will be the diva again."

Before he left, Regina threw him a semi-angry look. "You could have at least asked me if I agreed with all this, you know."

"Ah, ma plus chère beauté, where would the surprise be?" he said with a smile that appeased Regina slightly, but she shook her head (Amanda, naturally, was having the problem of suppressing a squeal).

"C'est le vingt et unième siècle, pas le dix-neuvième." she noted, "Life cannot be changed so easily, it simply cannot."

"I believe it just was." he said, still smiling. "Merely more quickly than you're used to. Worry not, my dear. You will get the part – you better to portray you than yourself? – and the world will be enamored and you will be the diva, as you are meant to be. I will take care of everything. Trust me."

"But why not begin with auditioning in an opera house?" Regina asked, throwing her last card. "It would be just as hard, but I thought you preferred opera… you know film and yet you don't and this…" She was spared the need to think of more ways to answer by a kiss that silenced her effectively.

"You have absolutely no idea how wonderful it is to be free to kiss you in public, whenever I want to." Erik said pleasantly as Amanda stared shamelessly.

"You still need permission from me." Regina noted, unable to think of anything better, since it seemed her brain cells were rendered non-functional by a sudden electrical shock.

"Then I will ask for it next time." And he kissed her again, without permission. "Forgive the impertinence of an outcast, who wishes merely to be granted a bit of heaven through an angel."

Since Regina was too brain-dead to say anything and Amanda was positively on the verge of squealing, Erik took Regina's numb hand and kissed it, as he had done with Amanda, said only: "Crois à ton ange, bel enfant." and left them standing there.

The next day, plane tickets to New York arrived. Everyone but Regina was completely amazed, but when she explained, everyone – to her astonishment – seemed enthusiastic about that. They saw it as one major fun trip. And so, they went to America. Not a very enjoyable flight, since it was overly long for most of their tastes, but seeing everything when they got off the plane was great. Their hotel for the few days had also been booked, so Regina had no chance to object. A free trip to the US? Who in their right mind would reject that, Amanda reasoned, and it seemed that the parents agreed, once Amanda told them that they had it from a reliable source.

Now, Regina covered her face with her hands. She couldn't do this, it was too…

"Come off it!" Amanda snapped at her. "You've done stuff that's far worse than these things. You've sung them before; you'll do fine and get the part, like Gerik said." She said with a satisfied smile since Regina removed her hands to throw her a dirty look.

They were there far sooner than Regina would have liked, and Amanda practically dragged her all the way, knowing that there was a chance that Regina might lose her nerve and try to get away. Besides, getting lost in a foreign (and big) city was not a good idea, so she thought she was doing her friend a bit of a favor.

Once they got to the correct door, Regina – somewhat unaided by Amanda, who was rolling her eyes again – took a deeper breath and knocked. When a "Come in!" came from the inside, she opened the door and entered, Amanda following, a studio. Amanda saw that Regina wasn't really there when she was shaking hands with Joel again and took unnecessary care not to look at Erik either. Why, she had no idea. But if it helped her… Amanda shrugged inwardly. Regina could get worked up about doing things correctly.

"Well, shall we begin then, Miss Chael?" Joel said enthusiastically. Then, apparently seeing Regina's weak nod, he added: "If only half the praise of your voice I've heard from Gerry is true, then I'm sure I'll be impressed. Don't worry."

In any other case, a sarcastic comeback would have entered Regina's mind, but now there was only a blank, so she nodded again. "Okay, let's get started." she said, remembering what she was supposed to sing and that she wasn't supposed to sing it in French.

Needless to say, minus the two people who had been anticipating nothing short of a triumph, everyone in the room was goggling at the young girl as if she had just sprouted antennas and proclaimed that she is from Mars and comes in peace. She managed the two biggest numbers of the show – TOM and WYWSHA with apparent ease. When she finished the latter, everyone seemed speechless, and the two already mentioned people exchanged looks of triumph.

After a minute of awkward silence, Erik stood up and clapped for a moment, managing to conjure up a smile on Regina's face. "Bravo, my dear. But perhaps you would sing "O patria mia" from Aida for me? It compliments your voice wonderfully."

"And here I thought you would make me sing 'Il dolce suono', at the very least." Regina said with slight relief. The Mad Scene from Lucia di Lammermoor was immensely difficult. Amanda only understood that they were talking about arias and probably difficult ones. Joel didn't seem to understand a word. Then again, he might have still been stupefied, so it was hard to tell.

With a smile that plainly said "We will get to that soon enough", Erik motioned to Regina to start. Taking a breath, she began to sing a capella. Somewhere mid-aria, some people showed signs of life, but waited until Regina had finished.

The verdict was clear: send all the other ones home at once, we've found our Christine, Schumacher was saying into his phone, presumably to Webber or someone from the production, it was unclear. Meanwhile, Regina regained some color, Amanda was jumping up and down in excitement and Erik slipped a hand around Regina proudly.

"You see, I told you you could do it." he said fondly.

Regina smiled and seemed relieved overall. Then she thought for a moment, freed herself gently and said: "Wait." She looked at Amanda. "We're not done yet, Amy has yet to audition for Meg's part."


	27. Pineapple Pizza and Phantom Preparations

**Author's notes:** Several chapters left!

X X X

**Chapter 27 – Pineapple Pizza and Phantom Preparations**

X X X X

After many phone calls, several enthusiastic squeals and agreements about the job to come, Regina was considerably happier and suggested that they go to a restaurant to celebrate this a bit. They ended up in a typically American Italian restaurant and, naturally, Amanda ordered the strangest pizza she could find on the menu.

"I have to compare it to the ones back home!" she protested when Regina gave her a disturbed look, then shook her head and plainly told a slightly confused Erik that he shouldn't even ask.

"Then might I ask a few other things?" he asked as they ordered their food.

"Of course." Regina said, "I have a few questions of my own, to be frank."

"Ah, filling in time!" Amanda said, distracted from her pizza for a moment. "Can I start with a question, Erik?" she asked, switching into French with no difficulty at all. It was one of the things she liked – she could speak French fluently and easily. However, it would have been better if she had been able to learn Spanish, Amanda thought. That brought back the mental image of Antonio Banderas as the Phantom, however.

"Very well, Amanda."

"Any brothers?" she asked with an eager but slightly insane puppy dog expression. It seemed to startle Erik slightly, since he wasn't used to it, but he figured that as long as he answered and Regina was nearby, nothing would happen.

"It seems that in this… incarnation? Or what should I call it? Nevertheless, yes, I do. Strange… having a family is a strange thought." He mused for a moment.

"Well, running away from your mom and ending up with the gypsies must have been a tad different from the normal life of a kid." Amanda said with the subtlety of a blunt axe. When he looked surprised that she knew, she grinned. "A charming woman by the name of Susan Kay has written your biography and Regina has been oh-so-kind and told me what it's about."

It took a few moments of silence for the information to sink in and by the time he turned to Regina, she had a comeback ready. "Don't worry about that. You will have to get used to the publicity. The book is a bestseller and a very good one. I liked it a lot, but she made Christine – well, me, literally speaking – look like a little kid who's so weak she can't even be happy. I mean, I'm indecisive, yes, but that was extreme."

"Well, this certainly saves me a lot of excuses when you would pry about how in the world I became what I was." Erik noted dryly.

"Cheer up." Amanda said, "98 of the people who read any of the books or saw the musical think Christy should have stayed."

"And the 2?"

"They're idiots." Amanda said simply. "Now that I have seen it from an insider's point of view, I can confirm that Raoul is a pansy."

"He's not." Regina noted.

"Whose side are you on?" Erik asked, looking at her slightly suspiciously.

Sticking her tongue out for a moment, Regina said: "I pity him a bit, actually. I guess his mind just couldn't accept the fact that I wasn't the 19th century ingénue I used to be anymore and picked you instead of him. Oh, well, he's a fop – and a rich one. He'll find a girl that will worship his girlish good looks."

Amanda laughed and choked on her pizza whilst Erik looked reasonably pleased with what he heard.

"The only thing I wonder is how come the musical and the book remained the same." Amanda mused. "I mean, we disappeared from there. Now, I have no idea how we got there in the first place or how we got back, but the point is, we were there and suddenly we were here, and you were here too." She shrugged. "Weird. Good weird, but weird still."

"Before you start with a full analysis of what we went through, let's hear the questions you had." Regina said, turning to Erik. "You ask, and then I'll do the same."

"Very well. One question has already been answered by your little friend. Question number two: you knew what was going to happen when you were on-stage before Hannibal."

It wasn't really a question, but Regina had been expecting it. She took a deep breath. "Yes, I knew Carlotta would get squashed and I didn't care. Yes, I knew you were behind the mirror and you'd force me to hit that high E. Yes, I knew a lot of things, but since one change creates more, I only had a general idea of what might happen."

Erik raised an eyebrow delicately and Regina added: "Yes, I knew the reason for the mask. Besides, I have a brain, you know. Even though I was partially rendered brain-dead by all you showed me that night."

"And you still came…" he whispered.

"Because, cheesy as it might sound, it was you. I knew it would be an amazing experience, and it was. And let me remind you that I didn't unmask you when I had the chance."

Erik smiled faintly. "One more thing. The… mannequin."

Finally, Regina flushed a bit, ashamed. "Um… I knew it would be there…wearing the wedding dress. I'm sorry for pretending to faint there, but what was I supposed to say? You weren't seducing me – you were begging me to love you and practically proposing to me."

"And your answer to that question would have been…?" he prodded.

She shook her head, but seeing his sudden disappointment, she quickly spoke. "Oh, no, I don't mean that! But you're far too inquisitive for your own good! I thought we agreed one question at a time, and you've surpassed the limit by far."

Erik shrugged as innocently as he could, but gave her a look that eagerly anticipated an answer.

"No fair!" Regina scowled, "You keep looking at me like that. Unfair choice of weaponry, Monsieur." Another silence. "Yes. I would have said yes. And before this turns into a scene worthy of a soap opera, if you wait a couple of years so that my parents won't freak out and remind me of my physical age, I you might get the same answer."

"Three years." Amanda piped up. "When you're 18, you're legal. But you might wanna wait a bit longer. Not that I don't want you guys to be together, but Gin here gets slightly worked up about school and college is nearing itself constantly."

"You just don't want to be the spinster alone." Regina said with a smirk and avoided the bit of pizza that flew at her. "And I'm guessing the book ended up as it is because Leroux was slightly freaked out about you vanishing along with a suspicious Phantom and a girl who claimed to be visited by angels. Anyway," she turned back to Erik, "My turn now. How in the world did you find me, let alone recognize me?"

"You wake up finding yourself in a strange city with memories you can't place, go see what the hell happened and find out where in the world you are and suddenly you hear a familiar angelical voice singing a classic opera. Do you not go to the source of the voice – the one thing you recognize? It could keep you from going mad. I recognized your voice and… Amanda… was sensible enough to recognize me when I called you Christine. You, however, seemed too prone to fainting at the moment." Erik finished, slightly amused.

"I told him a few things to calm him down." Amanda added, fishing a piece of pineapple out of her pizza. "And then you woke up."

"I remember that." Regina muttered, remembering the cold water.

Amanda grinned sheepishly. "Hey, you said we should hurry. Anyway, you know the rest. Now we're changing history, you guys have unofficially hooked up and the story has a happy ending."

"Hooked up?" Erik asked.

"Search your slang memory." Amanda noted, taking a sip of her coke. Regina continued to eat a bit of her lasagna, trying to picture a happy ending to all of the insanity. It simply seemed unrealistic.

"Well, now we'll have to stop school for a moment or study in America for a while, right?" she asked, "After all, we can't keep flying from continent to continent every other day. It might get a bit exhausting."

"Too true." Amanda noted, "We'll finally get the hell out of that hellhole!"

"Now, since you wasted your question, here's another of mine." Regina said triumphantly. "What are you planning on doing once the movie is finished? Obviously, we can't just return home and continue being the regular students, so I'm guessing you have something planned."

"Oh, nothing big." Erik noted dismissively, "Just a few small things. Once the world hears you sing, the opera houses will come calling themselves. And I can't believe just how many operas were created since we… left. Most of them are rubbish, naturally, but this Puccini person seems to be a reasonably talented composer. I found just the right aria for your voice in Turandot, Christine – marvelous opera, if a little too avant-garde for my taste…"

Amanda worked out the translation easily enough: You are going to be a world opera diva. Regina immediately rallied with the casually thrown remark that perhaps he should start composing new operas or rewrite Don Juan and have it performed. By the time they left, Amanda was grinning, since the pair was arguing the whole way. _Artists,_ she thought, _If these two really get together, all they'll ever argue about is whether his or her opera is better._


	28. Flights and frights

**Author's notes**: Anonymous reviews have been enabled once again! Sorry bout that, I forgot that I had been messing around with that, I forgot to turn them on. Anyway, quick update, though still a few chapters ahead of us.

X X X

**Chapter 28 – Flights and frights**

X X X X

The news that they had gotten the job was great, but Amanda wasn't that happy with being delegated with the task of telling the parents. Needless to say, things were a little strange now, and she knew her parents well enough to assume that they would be entirely okay with things. Surprisingly, her father had only raised his eyebrows before congratulating her and her mother, normally twice as sharp as her daughter, actually smiled and said she was happy for her.

Regina's parents, being both artists, were going to take it even better, Amanda was certain. She had made an excuse that Regina still needed to rehearse some stuff (Yeah right, she thought to herself) and thus was unable to come home yet, but that she was completely safe.

Since it was August, Amanda discovered, their dropping out of school was nearing itself, and so was the date of their departure back home. She wasn't that keen to go. Although the shooting was supposed to start sometime mid-September, so that they would be allowed to inform their school of what was going on, she wanted to stay. The bold part of her liked this sudden change of their monotone student lives into the lives of soon-to-be famous people.

Of course, she knew that this was going to crash with their study plans, big-time. Once Regina would realize that she would have to actually study now, she would crack, Amanda was certain. Well, she would keep that moment away for as long as possible. In the meantime, she wondered about what Regina had brought up during their lunch together – what had happened with Leroux, really?

She had purchased his book on the way home and read it whilst listening to some music, old to her ears, new to those of the world. It ended as it should. "Bummer." She muttered to herself. One would think that even G.L. would get the hint that Christine and Erik vanished at the same time and thus presumably together. But _no._ what was suspicious about that? Sarcasm pouring out of her very presence, she slammed the book shut and threw it away.

Several weeks later, on the plane back home, she was reading Kay and experiencing the same disappointment.

Meanwhile, Regina had been needed to visit the house of ALW himself, to give a "sample" of what she could do. It went well, she was pleased with herself in general and spent the rest of the time arguing with Erik about this or that opera aria and whether or not she would accept his plans.

Amanda turned a page in her book when Regina yawned from the chair next to her. Stretching her hands a bit, she groggily asked: "We there yet?"

"Not for another few hours." Amanda muttered, closing the book and marking her page. They were on the airplane home, sitting together, their parents all sleeping around them. Only Amanda had been awake, and only because her stock of coffee was too great and she consumed it at regular intervals.

They had agreed with the production that someone would be sent over once the time would come to tell the school what was going on, since the school year was less than two weeks away, exchanged phone numbers and email addresses and agreed on the dates. That was enough for them. The contracts had been signed, voice samples had been recorded. In less than a month, they would be heading back.

Regina yawned again. She couldn't wait to see their headmistress´ expression and their classmates´ faces once this would be announced… but for now, she wanted to sleep.

"Even insomniacs need sleep once in a while."

Amanda enjoyed the scowl Regina granted her. She had been calling her "OG" for a while now. OG for Opera Girl. Regina had announced that it was highly unoriginal and stupid. It didn't stop her, however, to call Amanda "DJ" in turn. "DJ" as in Dancing Jerk.

With no pillow to throw, however, the effect was less than she would have wanted.

X X X

Regina buttoned up her white blouse. It was time – September had arrived, and Amanda came to her place, since they were going to school together and Regina's house was far closer to their school than Amanda's. their parents had allowed it, since it was such an important matter. Besides, the pair of them still needed to get to the airport. All had assumed that whoever from America was coming had very limited knowledge of their town.

It was 7 A.M. and they were already ready, both girls in their school uniforms, Regina's father was starting the car and they were fighting over Amanda's hidden stock of coffee. It was going to be a long day. All the documents were prepared. It took them half an hour to get to the airport on the outskirts of the city. However, Regina asked her father to remain in the car – they knew where to wait, since it was a pretty small airport and there was little time for proper introductions.

The two felt both uncomfortable in the uniforms, and naturally, neither was wearing the required jacket – Regina had it in her hands, with the school logo out of sight, Amanda had it tied around her waist. Both, however, wore identical navy blue long trousers and white blouses, the required uniform of their high school. And they felt stupid, since they knew not one other school in town demanded that its students wear uniforms. Naturally, the trousers and the jacket were of the cheapest possible material. The blouse or t-shirt people bought themselves. Still, white was the required color.

"I feel like a flight attendant." Amanda muttered under her breath as she swept her brown hair out of her face. It was nothing like the blond straight hair she had had as Meg, but it was way more comfortable.

"That makes two of us." Regina said, sighing and folding her arms. "I swear, next time we go announce anything like this, I won't wear these rags. We're going there to say we won't be going there anymore – what's the point of this?"

"That's the beauty of it – no point at all!" a sigh, "Do you know who's gonna come? You didn't say."

"I don't know." Regina confessed, "But I have a hunch, and if it's correct, it makes me laugh and cry at the same time."

Amanda looked a bit surprised as she looked at her. "Why?"

Regina, still looking ahead, smiled a bit bitterly. "If you look several degrees to the right, you'll see." She then walked towards – three guesses who – and, surprisingly, Joel Schumacher. Amanda assumed that the director had to be very impressed with Regina to be coming personally.

She couldn't help it. She laughed out loud and went to welcome them.

"How was your trip?" Regina was saying when Amanda caught up with them.

Joel waved his hand dismissively. "Horrible, as it usually is when you cross the ocean. Both of you look great, it that a uniform?" he asked curiously, "I thought only British students wore them."

"Yeah, the British and us." Amanda said bitterly.

"There'll be time for observations later." Regina said briskly. "Time is precious – if you mean to catch out _darling_ headmistress before she starts her start-of-term speech, we should hurry. The school's not so nearby and traffic's a horror here. Come on."

She led the way out of the hall, glaring slightly at the nearby group of women whom almost all were goggling shamelessly at them, one guess at who especially.

"If looks could kill, they would be only piles of dust now, and I see that that is your wish." he whispered, "Why so sour, my dear? Is it the early morning, the stress or the unusual situation?"

"They're staring at you." Regina hissed in French. "They think I'm the little sister character and they've got a chance."

"Then I'll play the big brother character and never let go." Erik smiled at Regina's glares and put an arm around her shoulders. "You know that they matter as much as dirt compared to you – you have no reason to be jealous."

"Jealous? Me, jealous? Hark who´s talking! _This is the point of no return! Make your choice !_" Regina rasped in a dark and gloomy voice. "I'm a completely liberal person compared to you."

"Guilty as charged." Erik sighed, "But understand my position at the time – adoring you from afar and knowing that like the Adam on the painting in the Sistine Chapel, my hand would never touch that of God – or, in this case, a goddess – is very agonizing."

"Don't stereotype me, whatever you do. I just don't like that the ditzy bimbos are drooling all over the floor."

"Staring is always agonizing, no matter the reason behind it. I can tell you from… experience. And staring because I am attractive to them or, how did Amanda say it – hot? – is about as annoying as staring because I was hideous and repulsive to them. As long as you stay by my side, however, I might endure it."

Regina smiled at last. "You know me too well. You spent way too much time behind that mirror, spying on me."

"You read books about me before you knew I existed." Erik pointed out.

"Touché. That makes us even, I suppose."

They exited the airport and Amanda took the lead, quickly moving to introduce them with Regina's father. "These are Joel Schumacher, who directs the movie and Gerard Butler, who plays the Phantom. You guys, this is Jonathan Chael, Regina's dad."

The men shook hands while the girls helped get whatever luggage they had with them into the car. Regina looked at the time. "Any chance we could hurry?" she asked, and they all proceeded to speed up the process.

Once inside the car, Regina proceeded to select one of the many opera CDs as a pastime, even though Amanda suggested that they could lay off the classical music for a while. As a compromise, Mr. Chael chose Les Mis, the musical. The journey was not quiet – since Joel and Erik found out that Mr. Chael was an actor and, moreover, a musical theater actor, they began a debate about various musicals, Regina joining in occasionally, at times singing songs from Les Mis along with the CD. Amanda, who didn't know that much about musicals to add much to the debate raided her purse and found her mp3 player and began listening to the rock file.

By the time they arrived at the school, Act 1 of Les Mis was over – they had skipped a few songs – and the final tones of One Day More fell silent as they stopped in front of the school.


	29. One more for the Catalogue

**Author's notes:** Next chapter is the shooting, people! Oh, and just so you know, like Amanda and Regina, Rita and Mrs. Baxter are real-life people, and they fit the descriptions. Not to be evil to them, however, the names you read are _not_ their real names. Oh, and I adore Don Giovanni, did I mention that? I don't care if Madamina! is a basso aria! I just love it, especially the first part. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one.

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**Chapter 29 – One more for the Catalogue**

X X X X

Looking back on the whole thing, Amanda was more than reasonably pleased with how the whole thing went. Once they entered the school and she elbowed Regina to quit looking as if she were going to court, all she had to do was grin at the people who were staring at them in utter disbelief, most of them girls from age 11-18 who were still present in the halls and not in the courtyard, where the beginning-of-term speeches would take place. Even Regina noticed them, which was saying something, because she kept imagining what their headmistress would say and what would happen. The fact that Amanda felt the nagging need to elbow her in the ribs again to make sure she noticed was the irritating part of it.

They had proceeded straight to the headmistress's office and Regina gritted her teeth before knocking and opening the door.

Everyone in the school knew that their headmistress, Mrs. Baxter, was not the most amiable person in the world. In fact, everyone thought that she was one of the least likeable people in the world. When it came to appearances, she was not exactly a beauty queen. She probably used to have brown hair before dying it platinum blonde so often, it seemed to be about as strong as cotton candy that could be torn from her head at all times. It was straight and not very thick. Her skeletal figure and face that was skeletal as well as stern gave her the appearance of the Grim Creeper when she dressed in black. She wasn't evil, but very strict and strangely "nationalistic" when it came to her own school. She had authority, true, but no student liked her. And her dull speeches with lengthy pauses and frequent mispronunciations due to nervousness were legendary.

Surprisingly, the meeting went quite well. they were greeted by the secretary, another wanna-be model type persona who wasted no time before she started staring and almost stuttering, earning herself a glare from Regina and suppressed laughter from Amanda. Regina wasted no time elbowing her friend in the stomach. When Amanda let out an audible "Ow!", the other girl's glare finally softened. Perhaps she had taken out far too much frustration on her friend, but she deserved it.

Only briefly – thank God, Amanda thought – were the two teenagers needed before released from the office. Naturally, the first thing they ran into was the crowd that had gathered itself in front of the office. Some squeals and a lot of questions welcomed them, most of which they didn't understand a word, because the people there just wouldn't stop talking. Amanda briefly thought they might escape to the girl's bathroom several meters away, but the crowd had closed in so tightly that there was really no way out. Once Regina finally remembered she had an opera-trained voice now and screamed out at them to be quiet, did they quiet down.

A bespectacled girl with waist-length mousy brown hair fought her way to them – quite a feat, since her built was very frail – and Amanda suffered a slight shock to see Rita, one of her closest friends, still with fair hair. She dismissed the memory that in less than a year, the two of them would discover – or would have discovered? – Good Charlotte and punk music, eventually leading to Rita dying her hair jet black, much against the wishes of her family. Then again, all of Rita's family had black hair. Rita was simply the not-so-black black sheep.

"Amy! Gin!" she squealed and threw herself at the former, landing in a hug, "You're almost late! And what's all the commotion, Anna said someone saw you heading for Baxter's office."

Amanda proceeded to answer the question, but then someone squealed another question and soon, both she and Regina found themselves quickly answering. Meanwhile, more people – some teachers, including – came to the corridor, trying to find out what had caused the delay.

It didn't help at all that about three minutes after they had greeted almost everyone they knew by name and restarted the story for the umpteenth time that Erik emerged from the office, causing a general wave of sudden squeals and semi-faints from about 99 percent of the present females, overlooking perhaps the teachers.

"Amanda, Mrs. Baxter would like to speak to your parents just to confirm everything, and she doesn't want to waste time looking for the phone number in your files, could you please help?"

Amanda nodded and attempted to outshout the squeals. "Sure, but will you take my place here and save Gin, please, Gerry? Otherwise these guys will probably cause her to explode and I don't want to be the one stuck with an angry computer freak for the rest of the day."

Regina switched to French, just in case. "Not a good idea. In case you haven't noticed, these little beasts aren't emitting sounds that endanger the species commonly known as dogs because they find you repulsive in any way. And trust me, in this century, that might be far, far worse than what you've been through when people thought you ugly." she rambled quickly.

"You can go fix the piano downstairs." Amanda suggested, also in French, "There's not enough room for them all in there." Regina, seeing that they really didn't have time for more conversation before the eleven-year-old squealing girls would really need slapping and before they would close in on them briefly looked at Erik and almost laughed at the expression on his face. While conversing, the two have forgotten about his uncomfortable feeling when it came to crowds.

Amanda had probably thought that after everything that had happened to them and, especially, not being "horribly disfigured" any longer, the problem had been solved. Regina saw that yes, the problem had been mostly solved, but that didn't mean that he was willing to stay among the crowd. One look told Regina that if he knew how to get to the cellars, he probably would prefer them to the crowded corridor.

Regina took the lead, but decided it was about time he learned things the hard way. Making her way through the crowd, she calmly (at least outwardly) proceeded down the corridor and smiled faintly when she heard the unmistakable footsteps behind her.

"You play an unfair game, Christine – when you entered the unknown, I led you through it." Erik said, with just a hint of an angry hiss in his voice.

"Who ever said I'm not leading you?" Regina whispered back, "I simply think you need a slight push in the social direction. You have to – what would Amy say? Oh yeah. Get over yourself."

"Permit me to remind you that people weren't too keen to remain in my company during a full lifetime, so excuse me if I don't immediately enjoy all the attention, despite its rather different character." He said dryly.

Regina sighed. "I know this can't be easy…"

"It isn't."

"… but things are different now. Not that I'm encouraging you to remain among these girls, no, certainly not." She added quickly, glancing down when he gave her a look that clearly remembered her rather defensive attitude at the airport. "It's just that none of them is going to understand if you find yourself a nice comfy cellar and spend the rest of your life there. How did Leroux say it? "He had a heart that could have held the empire of the world; and, in the end, he had to content himself with a cellar." Yes, I think that's how it goes."

"I don't necessarily agree, my dear. You see, cellars have a certain charm to them, once you furnish them properly." Regina decided not to reply.

They got downstairs back the way they came and Regina went down a few more stairs, revealing an open semi-chamber there, with doors leaving to the courtyard and to the cellars (coincidently). There was also a rather old brown piano there. And a lot more people, because the rest of the school was just outside.

"It's a bit out of pitch, I hear." Regina noted sheepishly, "I can't really tell, I never learned to play the piano. I wish I had, but I was a kid when my grandma was pushing me into it, so I went defensive and said I would never play." She explained when he gave her a questioning look.

"I could teach you, if you wish." He offered. "Your voice is ready, whatever other instrument you wish to master, I can help you with."

Having expected that slightly, Regina beamed. "What would I do without you?"

"Your life would be much more boring." He said, already inspecting the piano. The crowd was actually very silent during this process and just watched as he effortlessly repaired the instrument and played a few notes just to check it.

On cue, the crowd started begging for him to play something. On cue, Amanda, Joel, Mr. Chael and Mrs. Baxter appeared on the stairs. Everyone fell silent at the sight of the headmistress, who folded her arms and wordlessly managed to usher them all outside.

"All the details have been sorted out, Gina." Mr. Chael smiled at his daughter, "Mrs. Baxter simply wants…"

"… to boast in front of the crowd of parents out there." Amanda interrupted, knowing Mr. Chael wouldn't mind. Regina's dad was very much okay in her opinion, being an actor and thus ever-young in spirit.

"Now, Amy, you know that this sort of thing rarely happens at a normal school." Mr. Chael reminded her with a smile. "And I must say once again, I'm happy for you two. I knew you were so much into acting and singing, Gina, but that you were given this chance is amazing."

Regina smiled a bit forcibly. She knew that had things gone the normal way, she would really never have gotten the chance. But now that she had the chance, she sure as hell wasn't going to throw it away. "Thanks, Dad." She said, hugging him. They then proceeded to watch the speech from the entrance, taking care to pointedly ignore every stare. Only Amanda seemed to be truly enjoying teasing the people with grins and brief waves.

The speech they had expected to be long, dull and boring. And it was, after Mrs. Baxter got past their case. She had smiled in a way that made others want to scream in terror and, after the usual greetings, began to say: "Some of you have already noticed our special guests. We were forced to delay the beginning of the celebration," many students wanted to snort. "because we had things to discuss. I am very pleased to announce that two of our students, Miss Amanda Kerri and Miss Regina Chael, have been chosen at an audition for an adaptation of the Broadway musical the Phantom of the Opera for two of the leading roles." There was general astonishment among the audience and many more heads turned to them. "Thus unfortunately, they will not be joining us for this brand new school year, as they have to be present in America for rehearsals and shooting." The two girls failed miserably at looking devastated because of this fact.

They didn't fake being devastated when Baxter decided she wanted to boast the skills of her students and said: "And so, I would be very honored if I could summon them here for a brief addition to our student program."

Amanda sulked and Regina sighed, but both decided to be brave. The student program was a traditional part of the opening of the term, and both despised it. No one actually wanted to perform in it, but the teachers were very sneaky in their blackmailing. Once on-stage, Regina took the mike, greeted everyone and tried to get out of it by saying that they have nothing rehearsed and that singing a capella wouldn't have the effect they wished for. Unfortunately, not too late afterwards, someone must have realized that since Erik had repaired the piano, he could probably play it, and Amanda spotted a small crowd where they had stood, a few guys probably going to bring out the piano, the rest – Amanda didn't fail to notice that primarily girls – were begging him to play.

The next minute, the piano was on the stage and a few way too bubbly girls were gossiping and throwing Erik, who was ushered towards the stage, dreamy looks. Regina glared and mouthed "I hate you" to him, but he pointedly ignored that.

Once he sat down at the piano, Regina asked if he could play the Catalogue aria – "Madamina! il catalogo è questo..." . Erik frowned. "Christine, that is a basso aria. You are a soprano."

Regina nodded. "I know. But listing all the women Don Juan "loves", when and how he gets them and what happens them is more than perfect." Being quite the genius and by now knowing that his Christine wasn't faking the glares, Erik understood and gave her a look which made Regina wish he hadn't.

The only thing that surprised him was that Regina began singing the aria in English and, despite being more than a major third away from the original score, she managed to hold the tune well. Amanda was the one who noticed that there was a parallel between the sudden crestfallen faces of the girls and a subconscious grin on Regina's face as she sang, because both sides probably realized who would be spending time with Erik and who wouldn't. now it was most of the girls that gave Regina death glares so ridiculous Amanda was certain she broke a rib by suppressing laughter.

The audience applauded when Regina finished the last sentence: "Now you know all that he is." with a long note, but unfortunately Baxter didn't allow them freedom just yet, forcing them to stay there for her "How we shall miss you" speech. Regina thought that unlikely, for she and Baxter had had only 1 conversation previously and that had involved her prying into what she had been reading at the moment, finding out that it had been a French grammar textbook. She very much doubted Baxter had known her full name before today. Amanda, surprisingly, took the speech rather well, knowing that it was probably the very last one she would have to suffer and savoring that thought.

Once all this was over, Regina found her father and moaned: "Can we please, _please_ go now?"

Mr. Chael laughed. "And here I thought you would savor the last remaining days of normal life you have."

Amanda then joined them, laughing almost hysterically for some reason. When they asked why, she managed to point a shaking hand in the direction of where Baxter stood, apparently trying hard to start a conversation with Joel or Erik. None of them could help it right now – they joined the laughing session. Otherwise they would really have broken some ribs.


	30. Angels and Angles

**Author's notes**: Notes at the end of the chapter, people! And I hope that you will like this one – a little mythological riddle for you!

X X X

**Chapter 30 – Angels and Angles**

X X X X

Several weeks later, Regina was reading through her schedule and found that she had about five minutes a day for anything involving what she wanted to do. Everything was progressing so quickly – in a few days, "rehearsals" would begin. Most of her costumes had already been fitted, she had met the rest of the cast and almost sang her lungs out a few days ago.

Amanda, who wasn't needed to sing other than in "Angel of Music" was meanwhile entertaining the crew and cast with her variations of "Angle of Music". Though she didn't necessarily have the figure of a ballerina – skinny anorectics, Amanda had commented – she made up for it by sheer skill and the fact that she was the comic relief on set.

Every day, they sent a collective email to their parents, just to calm them and assure them that they were still alive. Amanda was quick to come up with reasons why Regina's parents shouldn't freak out once Regina would tell them _the whole truth_, but Regina somehow doubted that the fact that age differences between Hollywood actors who ended up together were somewhat common ("Think Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes." Amanda had noted with a shrug, as if that solved the problem) would be enough to earn her a blessing and not land her house arrest until the age of sixty.

Regina also took up the task of solving the mystery of how they got into the PotO storyline in the first place, but since the DVD that she had figured out had probably landed them there in the first place and the TV set in question didn't even exist yet, she was faced with a slight problem. However, that didn't really stop her.

Meanwhile, they had enough other problems to be dealing with. Regina in particular thought that soon, she would never be able to sing PotO again, because she was being made to sing it all the time by her now self-appointed Angel of Music. Apparently, Erik had read the books about him at astonishing speed and once he discovered the wonders of the internet, there was really no stopping him. Also, he seemed to have decided that his autobiography, no matter how untrue the ending was, had to be perfect. Last time Regina felt so drained was after a particularly nasty rehearsal for Don Juan Triumphant. It was insanity.

Regina finished typing the email alone – Amanda was out still practicing her ballet moves for some scene and this time she was the one hounded by Erik, a refreshing thing, Regina thought. She sighed and turned off the computer. It was time to go to bed, she decided. It was still early, but she was having trouble adapting to this new lifestyle. Plus the change of the time zones was still bugging her.

As usual, it took her at least an hour to fall asleep. Surprisingly, she dreamt a dream. She had been having pretty weird dreams as of late, probably because her whole life turned from normal to pretty weird as of late. However, this was a strange dream even compared to those. She was sitting in a… room? Or was it? It looked like out of a video game, she thought, because it seemed as if she were sitting in a gothic cathedral, but there was no religious symbols. It seemed thoroughly pagan and the three women she found herself watching were dressed in matching white robes that might have been fashionable at a funeral about two millennia ago.

They were doing something with a thread, Regina noticed as she walked towards them, and were not at all disturbed when she walked towards them. The strange thing was, Regina realized, that she could think. One couldn't think in a dream. At least, she didn't. But she was pretty sure she felt conscious.

"Ten thirty, Atropos." The middle one measuring with a rod said to the one to the left, who nodded quickly and pulled out a pair of scissors, cutting the thread. Regina was pretty sure she had seen something like this before.

The last one, who was spinning another thread already, looked up at Regina and watched her closely for a moment before saying. "A thread has been tangled. We have made a great exception in bringing you here. A mistake has been made and you have been sent to correct it, along with your dark haired friend."

"But the tangle is not yet resolved." The one with the scissors noted seriously, "In mind, you are two years older than you are in body. And even before, your mind was older. We could change your thread… but changing another might be better."

The middle one searched for something briefly and took out another thread, measuring it carefully. "We cannot return years or take them away… but we can prolong." There was a visible tangle in the thread and the moved her hand along it. She then repeated an opposite motion with two other threads. "This might undo the damage."

"You cannot change your fate." The spinner, the left one, said. "And none can change it for you. Banish your fears."

"Gin! GIN!" Amanda screamed into her ear. Regina woke up and shuddered immediately. That was weird. She decided she would have to drink less coffee. Amanda's habits were rubbing off on her. "Finally, you sleepyhead! I was wondering what you drunk to knock you out like that." The brunette said with a grin.

Regina threw a pillow at her.

Months after that, Regina had already forgotten the weird dream and Amanda had been normalized slightly. She insisted on staying after her part of the shooting was done, however, to "keep Regina entertained" she reasoned. Both of them noticed that as the weeks progressed, Erik was getting slightly more comfortable with the new life, even though there were moments when they half-expected him to go find a new Punjab lasso.

When the movie was released, it to be met with mixed reviews, as both of them had known before. But apparently, everyone was too shocked to discover how the leads sang that they didn't find much to criticize. Patrick Wilson had turned out to be a normal guy Regina could almost think of as a relative, really all-American and fun. A few tips about singing and he went from great to brilliant.

The few jokes about the making of were limited to Angle of Music, the moment when Erik asked if he could drop the chandelier himself, when Amanda spotted him shaking his head when they were preparing the hanging of Buquet, when Regina had asked if she could please have a dress that she wouldn't be afraid of falling off and, most memorable of all, when Amanda talked the cast into making a few bloopers for the DVD, including a happy end special, "because just check the net and you'll realize how many people will be out for your necks if you don't do it".

They got to be on TRL, which caused even Amanda to squeal. Naturally, there were a lot of questions about whether or not the on-screen relationships had turned into real-life ones as well. Regina had specifically asked Erik to deny everything and really call her a little sister, at least for now.

When she was checking her passport – she was heading for Europe, to visit her parents at long last – she noticed something strange. Her date of birth was incorrect somehow. It was supposed to read 1989. It read 1987. Regina frowned. _In mind, you are two years older than you are in body…you cannot change your fate…_

For the first time, the words strangely came back at her. She remembered the three women and then came to a possible conclusion… but that was just ridiculous. Cliché, no way. But she searched Wikipedia anyway and disliked being wrong. They fit the description easily, from head to toe.

Somehow, she was certain that the date would appear on all documents that needed her age. And after all, she had lived those two years – one in Paris and one before she even got to Paris. When Amanda and Erik both came to her with the same oddity, her hunch was confirmed. And she relaxed somewhat.

"Well, the age difference has officially been lowered." Amanda said after Regina explained everything to her. "Cheers, guys, I think you might actually be allowed to do this thing."

"What are you so happy about?" Regina asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just so you know, we're going to the Oscars this year. I'm simply going to see whether a certain someone is going there as well."

"The age difference between you and your chosen has not been lowered that dramatically." Erik pointed out, having been filled in on most of the two's habits, likes and dislikes previously.

"The difference is, I don't care." Amanda said with a shrug.

Both Erik and Regina decided not to comment on this and satisfied themselves with a pointed look at each other and a short laugh before turning to more pleasant matters. Amanda decided this was a good time to go watch TV and thus leave the room.

Eventually, despite the fact that the movie was a major debut, Regina ended up on the stage more than on the screen – she got an audition at the Met and made her breakthrough as Cherubino in Le nozze di Figaro. While she complained that she was stuck with roles of pageboys with angelic names, ("First Seraphimo and now this! At least I actually get to sing, we'll see who's the better angel!") She was very happy to fulfill a dream of hers this way. Naturally, after that single performance, where she had to repeat her arias twice, there was absolutely no doubt who the next diva would be.

Amanda danced for a while but eventually decided to go for modern music and founded her own punk rock band. At first, it was hard, but once she asked Erik to help a bit with the songs ("You have to try other genres as well! I mean, c'mon, wait till you turn on MTV!") It went more than well. She eventually met Jason Isaacs, though how that went is another story entirely. Suffice it say that she didn't rest until she got his phone number and pestered him for quite a while. With pleasing results, in her opinion.

Erik got used to playing his part in life and grew to like this new kind of freedom. Once the world discovered his "hidden" talents, he was a full-scale superstar, able to choose in every matter. It was very liberating and after his existence as the Phantom, quite enjoyable. Regina introduced him to forums on the internet and at times he chatted with his "phans", enjoying the feeling of supremacy. When it came to music, however, he still had a very strict eye. Eventually, after much convincing from Regina, some of his compositions reached the ears of the world.

In less than a year, despite Amanda's predictions, the world also officially knew they were together. Regina's parents managed not to explode. EC phans all over the world were celebrating and congratulating them on many websites, at times receiving a reply from the artists themselves. And yes, after college, there was such a thing as a happily ever after… after college.

Before that happened, however, elsewhere, a chestnut-haired girl was watching TV. More ads for the Phantom of the Opera. She sighed. Oh, well, there would be other opportunities.

Still… "Why doesn't something like that ever happen to me?" Emmy Rossum sighed.

X X X

_**The end **_

X X X

It is finished! Oh wow! I can scarcely believe it! The insanity is actually over! And the ending is satisfying! I thank each and every person who viewed this story, or even a part of it, because they were my unending inspiration and made me go on with this even when I thought it wouldn't be possible. Any corrections or notes, please send them in! Anyway, right now, I'm off to finish writing the concept for another phic! Enrinye also sends her regards, though she was simply my critic whilst writing this phic. Chocolate for you people who discover who the three women were and what their names are! Till next time!


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